Last of the Snow Elves
by GameTwist
Summary: Ysrae is one of the last snow elves in Tamriel. She wonders Skyrim with an unlikely companion, trying to repay a debt. Her journey will have its ups and downs including becoming the dragonborn and trying to find any other snow elves. Will she rise to the occasion or crumble under the pressure? Rated M to be safe and warnings will be at the beginning of every chapter. NPC cameos
1. Chapter 1

I love skyrim and I hope I can write a good story to do it justice. I'm not the best writer, but I do what I can. Any sort of review or criticism would be greatly appreciated. I may not write for a living, but I enjoy it and welcome any chance to try and improve. Anyways, I have had some of these characters in my mind for sometime and wanted to share with others. I hope you can enjoy the journey with me. I can't promise to update all the time as I have work and have other responsibilities, but I will do what I can to update at least once a month. Thank you for reading! Update: I messed this up already (face palm). When I initially uploaded this I accidentally uploaded it with all the source code. My apologies to the one person who saw this.

**Note: I do not own Skyrim or its characters. I have only thought up my own OCs for this story. This is rated M for a reason and will have mature themes. I will try to remember to put a warning before every chapter but if one is missing or you think something should be added please let me know. Also, here is a small guide to help with my writing style.**

_Italicized with no_ quotes is the character's thoughts

"No italics with quotes," is the characters speaking the common tongue.

_"Italicized with quotes," _is the character speaking another language, most likely falmer.

**Hope that helps.**

**WARNINGS:mild langue, blood, and fighting.**

* * *

Ysrae runs through a maze-like cave system as fast as she can. She saw her clan's distress signal while she was out hunting and scouting. Ysrae grabs the amulet around her neck and prays. _Please let everyone be ok. Please let it be a false alarm._ Ysrae stops when she's a few meters from the exit of the caves. She takes deep shuddering breaths. Once she catches her breath, she pauses to listen. Her heart drops, she can hear a commotion. She bursts into the vale to her worst nightmare. The clang of sword on sword rings out. War cries and screams permeate the air.

There's a man and woman in front of Ysrae, guarding what they must think is the only exit. Ysrae silently pulls out her dagger and sneaks up on the woman. She grabs the human and stabs her in the neck. The woman coughs and makes a choking sound. Ysrae lets go of her and she drops to her knees, spluttering. Ysrae pulls out the knife and pushes her backward, staining the snow with red.

"Hey!" the man yells at her.

Ysrae draws her swords. The man bares his teeth and raises his warhammer.

"You'll pay for that," he barks; then sneers, "just like the rest of the elves."

"_Bastard_!" Ysrae yells in her people's tongue and charges the man in fur armor. He swings high, clearly aiming for her chest. Ysrae slides under the hammer and thrusts one of her swords into his thigh. He yells in surprise and pain. Ysrae rolls away, leaving splatters of red on the snow behind her. She jumps up and faces her opponent.

He grunts and pulls out the weapon, throwing it away. He narrows his eyes at her, "You'll have to do better than that."

"So says the one bleeding out," she shouts back in the common tongue.

He roars and comes at her swinging. Ysrae braces herself and blocks the blow. Her hands sting painfully and she stumbles back. He swings the hammer down. Ysrae rolls to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed. Ysrae launches herself at him, thrusting her sword with both hands. It pierces the man's side, sinking to the hilt. He cries out in pain and grabs her. They topple to the ground, Ysrae yells in surprise and he grunts from the effort of holding onto her struggling form.

"You've killed me harlot," he wheezes out, blood trickling from his mouth, "but I can keep you from helping your friends."

Ysrae struggles harder, but her arms are pinned at her side. "Let go!" she screams. He just smiles and pulls her even closer. Ysrae somehow gets one arm free and punches his face. He curses but doesn't loosen his grip. She pummels him, spraying blood everywhere.

His arms finally go slack. Ysrae scrambles away from him. She slowly stands and avoids looking at him. Ysrae knows she needs to hurry, but this is the first time she's killed someone. She exhales slowly and grabs the hilt of her sword. She pulls as hard as she can. Her sword comes free much easier than she thought it would. She falls on her ass, right next to the man's head. She can't help but look at his battered, broken face. Bile rises in her throat. Ysrae groans and rolls to her hands and knees, vomiting. She spits and sits back on her heels. Tears stream down her face. She stares at the ever-darkening sky; night will be here soon.

"Ysrae," someone whispers and grabs her shoulder.

She whips her head around and see's silver-blue eyes, the mirror image of her own.

"Brother," she sobs and throws her arms around him. Her twin hugs her back. "Why is this happening?" she cries. He murmurs something. Ysrae pulls back and wipes the tears from her face.

"Yrhis," a voice hisses behind him, "we have to get out of here."

He waves his hand forward, "start making your way through the tunnels, we will catch up."

Ysrae stares as Celefani slipes by. She did not even realize there was anyone with her brother. Nirafeah comes next, her baby cradled in her arms. She pauses and manages to give Ysrae a soft smile.

Ysrae gives her a quick hug, "I am so glad the two of you are ok."

Nirafeah's eyes well up with tears, she turns away and follows Celefani. Harbys follows quickly behind her. He looks terrified but Ysrae can't blame him; he is still just a child. Ysrae ruffles his white hair as he passes; she hopes the familiar action will help calm him. He manages a weak smile.

"Sister."

Ysrae turns back to Yrhis. He puts his hands on her shoulders and stares into her eyes, searching for something.

Ysrae wipes away her tears again, "I will be ok. I had to kill them," she gestures at the two bodies in the snow, "right?"

He nods, "They would have killed you, Ysrae."

She nods, but she can't stop more tears from falling.

Yrhis wipes her tears away with his thumb, "I know it is hard sister, especially for you. You are one of the most kind-hearted people in our clan. And you take care of others over yourself, so hear me when I say this. The bastards you killed would have gladly killed me or any one of our people."

Ysrae closes her eyes and nods. Logically, she already knew this, but she needed to hear it out loud.

Ysrae takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, a determined look replacing her tears. "Thank you brother." Ysrae grasps Yrhis's forearm and tips her head forward. He does the same, briefly resting his forehead against hers.

"Let's get out of here," he mumbles and stands.

Ysrae grabs her dropped sword and briefly looks for its mate. She knows with the little light left, it would be near impossible to find it. She joins her brother at the cave entrance. Ysrae stops to take one last look at her home. Before she can turn back, torches emerge from behind homes and trees. Ysrae looks at Yrhis. He hasn't noticed yet.

Ysrae takes a deep breath and shoves her brother as hard as she can into the cave. He yells in surprise, but manages to get a knee down so he does not end up sprawled on the ground. Meanwhile, Ysrae has pulled a large amount of magicka to her hands. She casts her spell at the entrance, creating a green tinted barrier.

Yrhis scrambles to his feet and hits the barrier, "Ysrae!" he yells.

She puts her palm on the barrier and gives her brother a sad smile. "They are coming. Someone needs to stay behind to slow them down."

"I am stronger than you, I should have been the one to stay."

Ysrae shakes her head, some of her onyx hair falling in her face, "no, Brother. Because you are stronger than me, you have to be with them. You and I both know you can protect and lead them better than I ever could."

Yrhis closes his eyes, a pained expression on his face. Ysrae can hear voices behind her now.

"You should get moving," she whispers.

Tears roll down Yrhis's face, "you better do everything you can to survive Ysrae."

She gives him one last teary-eyed smile, "_Auri-El go with you brother_." Ysrae turns away and walks toward the slowly approaching lights, her sword gripped tightly in her hand. Her foot hits something metal. She looks down and can see the vague form of a sword in the snow. She picks it up, glad to see her missing sword. "_Thank Auri-El_," she whispers. Hopefully now she can take some of these men out with her.

The group is only a few meters away now. Ysrae straightens her back and holds her head high. She is of a proud and ancient blood line; she is a snow elf and she will not go out groveling. Ysrae looks up at the now completely dark sky. It is a clear night. Millions of stars shine above her, unaware of Ysrae and her people's struggle.

"Look what we have here boys," a cruel voice drawls out.

Ysrae lowers her gaze to the group bathing her in the orange light of torches. She tightens her grip on her blades and gets in a fighting stance. Laughter rumbles through the thirty or so group. Ysrae feels her face redden in anger.

A heavily built Nord takes a step forward, his hand resting on a greatsword strapped to his back, "going to fight us all, eh girl?"

"Afraid to face me yourself?" Ysrae shoots back. Laughter runs through the crowd.

The Nord chuckles, "you have spirit girl. But you are worth more ta me alive than dead. Now," he smiles, "be a good girl an' put down yer weapons." His smile makes Ysrae shiver; it's a cruel one, with the promise of pain later. She shakes her head.

His smile disappears and he speaks in a low voice, "If you don't co-operate, I will make yer life so much worse, girl."

Ysrae drops her arms to her sides and straightens up. "Answer me this," Ysrae speaks loudly and clearly, "did you kill everyone in my clan?"

The Nord's laughter booms out, "no my dear." He waves his hand forward. Movement ripples through the group. Six figures are pushed forward and forced to their knees, "what would be the point in killing all the snow elves? Like I told ya , you are worth more alive than dead."

Ysrae feels equal parts relieved and horrified. She is relieved there are more of her people still alive than just her brother and the other three; she is horrified at the Nord's implication. He could be planning to sell them off or keeping them as slaves. Ysrae keeps her face blank, but her eyes are welling up. Ysrae takes a deep breath and forces back new tears. Sha has to keep it together.

She looks at her clan members, tied up and gagged. Ysrae's heart falls when she doesn't see her father among them. Their eyes are pleading with her. She guesses they want her to co-operate and not be hard headed, but Ysrae needs to stall them. She looks back up at the scraggly brown-haired Nord, a sneer still on his bearded face. Ysrae lets out a breath. She stares at the man, determined.

He smiles cruelly, "Gott something ta say girl?"

"Let us make a deal," she says slowly, formulating a plan.

He scoffs, "What could ya possibly have ta offer? An' I suppose in return ya want me ta release yer friends," he gestures at his captives.

Ysrae snorts, "No. I am not a fool. All I want is for you to let me find my father's body and give him a proper buriel."

He raises an eyebrow, "And in return?"

"In return," Ysrae pauses, not wanting to make any promises she did not plan to keep. "In return I will follow your orders and be your personal healer."

The Nord grunts and crosses his arms, "Care ta demonstrate."

Ysrae sheaths her swords and mock bows, "of course m'lord." She pulls a dagger from her boot and straightens up. She holds her hands up in a non-threatening manner and moves closer to the mob. She's only an arm's length away from the leader, but Ysrae trusts in her reflexes and how slowly big, bulky Nords like this move. She swiftly removes the vambrace from her left arm and cuts deeply into her unmarred pale flesh. Ysrae lets blood run down her arm for effect. Then she pulls magicka to her hand and releases a healing spell, unleashing its comforting golden glow and soft singing. Ysrae's arm is back to its previous untouched state, albeit covered in blood.

The Nord stares at her unimpressed.

She rolls her eyes and suppresses a groan. "If you prefer, I can heal wounds so it leaves a scar. And unless I'm trying, none of your old scars will be erased."

He nods, "good." He waves his hand, "go on then."

Ysrae nods, puts the dagger away, and pulls out one of her swords. The Nord narrows his eyes and puts his hand on his own sword.

Ysrae snorts, "be calm. I am not stupid enough to attack this many people alone."

The Nord opens his mouth, "bu-"

Ysrae holds up her hand and cuts him off, "you'll forgive me if I do not trust the men who destroyed my home."

He snorts and waves Ysrae forward.

Ysrae moves past him but pauses in front of her clanmates. A lump rises in her throat. All of them are injured to various extents and it looks like Ysrae's closest friend did not make it.

"I don't suppose," Ysrae slowly turns back to the Nord, "you would allow them to take care of their families?"

The Nord growls and stalks to his captives. "Do you want to take care of your dead?"

They all nod, tears streaming down some's faces. The Nord waves Ysrae forward, silently telling her to go. Ysrae nods and pushes through the invaders. They jeer at her. She ignores them and passes between two homes in their small village.

It's completely dark now and the cloudy night provides little light. Ysrae sheaths her sword and casts candle light. She covers her mouth in horror. She can already see six mutilated bodies in the small radius of light. She forces back tears and checks all the bodies, two of them, unfortunately, are children. She moves on, hoping she'll find Father soon. Ysrae hears foot falls in the snow. She spins around and sees the remaining living Snow elves and their bandit escorts approaching the bodies. They must have made a deal with the leader. Ysrae returns to her search.

Ysrae cannot find her father's body anywhere outside. She takes a deep breath and heads to the small temple near the center of the village. She thinks if Father wasn't caught off guard, he would have ran to the temple to protect the two priests and village elder. Ysrae pauses just outside the broken door. She can see the dark shapes of at least two bodies. Ysrae squeezes her eyes closed and steps through the threshold.

She opens her eyes and sees the two bodies of the priests, their white and gold robes stained red. Ysrae looks to the side and sees a body clad in identical armor to hers. She swallows hard and starts to roll the body over. It groans. She gasps and rolls them onto her lap. Her father's face greets her. Ysrae chokes down a sob and carefully removes his helm. Snow white hair tumbles out and covers his face.

Ysrae carefully sweeps his hair away and whispers in her people's tongue, "_Father_."

His eyes flutter open. "Ysrae," he smiles weakly. He coughs, blood staining his lips.

Ysrae send a pulse of healing magic through him. It is too late to save him, but she can ease his suffering. He gives her a grateful nod.

"_I'm so sorry I was not here,_" Ysrae cries.

He shakes his head and reaches up, holding his daughter's face in his hand.

"_I am glad you were gone_," he wipes her tears away. "_You must live on Ysrae. Do whatever it takes._"

Ysrae nods, tears streaming down her face now. His hand falls away. Ysrae gently squeezes his hand.

"_Is Yrhis alive_?"

"_Yes. He and three others, including Nirafeah, made it out._"

Father softly smiles, his eyes slowly closing. "_Thank Auri-El_," he breaths out.

Ysrae holds his hand and listens to her father's last labored breaths. His breathing stops and he goes limp. Ysrae holds back a sob and wipes her tears away. She can't mourn yet. She needs to be strong. She stares at his face, memorizing it and the soft smile still upon it. Ysrae genlty wipes the blood off his face. Ysrae chuckles darkly, now more than ever, she wishes she had her father's snow-white hair. Instead she and her twin inherited the coal black hair of their Dunmer ancestor.

Ysrae slides her arms under her father's body and struggles to her feet. It's a good thing she isn't strictly a mage or she most likely would not have been strong enough to carry him. She carefully maneuvers through the door, taking extra care not to hit her father's head on the doorway. Ysrae carries him to the statue of Auri-El at the center of the village. Two of her fellow captives have carried a loved one to the statue as well. Ysrae places her father at the base, her clanmates follow suit. They are both crying. Ysrae looks at them, her face blank. One of them is the beautiful Faiyis, her rival, and the other an attractive male, Athkir, Ysrae had had a fling with.

"_Do you two need help finding anyone else?_" Ysrae whispers.

Faiyis looks down, her white hair covering her face.

Athkir shakes his head, tears sliding down his cheeks, "_We are only allowed to cremate one person._"

Ysrae holds her hand out to him, a sympathetic look in her eyes. Athkir clasps her forearm and she returns the gesture, pulling him in for a hug.

"_I am so sorry,_" she whispers. He leans down and buries his face in her black hair, mumbling something.

They part. Faiyis is utterly sobbing now. Ysrae holds her hand out to Faiyis, but she slaps her hand away. Ysrae sighs and turns away just as her candle light fades out. Ysrae can see other survivors searching in the snow, their own light bobbing next to them.

Strong, warm arms wrap around her, embracing her from behind. Ysrae grabs Athkir's hand, squeezing it. "_It will be ok_," he whispers. A knot forms in her throat.

"_Why did this happen?_" she manages to choke out.

Athkir pulls her closer, his taller form completely enveloping her. Ysrae closes her eyes and strokes his arm. In turn, he buries his face in her neck. They stay like this, finding comfort in each other's warmth.

_"Will you two knock it off,_" Faiyis hisses, "_they're all coming this way._"

Ysrae sighs and moves away. She can feel Athkir's reluctance to let her go, but he does. Ysrae casts candle light and turns back to the statue of Auri-El. She grabs her amulet and whispers a prayer for all her people. The last four snow elves place a loved one at the base of the statue, whispering final farewells. The silence that follows is heavy and full of loss.

Their human captors begin to grumble, growing impatient. Ysrae takes a deep breath and breaks the silence among the Snow elves, "who should perform the last rites?"

"You should," Athkir says without hesitation.

Everyone but Faiyis nod or voice their agreement. Ysrae nods. She slips her amulet off and clutches it in her hand. She pulls magicka to her hand. A white flame bursts from her hand. She hears the bandits murmur uneasily. The sound of weapons being unsheathed should bother her, but in this moment she couldn't care less.

Ysrae throws the fire at the base of the statue. The fire explodes with a boom, igniting all the bodies. Ysrae watches Father's long hair burn away. A single tear runs down her face. She ignores it, bringing her amulet to her lips and kissing it. She clasps her hands in front of her face and closes her eyes. Ysrae's voice rings out loud and clear as she says the final rights for her people, perhaps, even for the six other standing around their burning loved ones.


	2. Chapter 2

Finally got chapter 2 finished. It took my way longer than I wanted it to. Oh well, still updated within a month. I hope you enjoy! Please read warning! Reviews and follows appreciated.

**Note: I do not own Skyrim or its characters. I have only thought up my own OCs for this story. This is rated M for a reason and will have mature themes. I will try to remember to put a warning before every chapter but if one is missing or you think something should be added please let me know. Also, here is a small guide to help with my writing style.**

_Italicized with no_ quotes is the character's thoughts

"No italics with quotes," is the characters speaking the common tongue.

_"Italicized with quotes," _is the character speaking another language, most likely falmer.

**Hope that helps.**

**WARNINGS:mild langue, blood, and fighting. Mention of rape (nothing explicit)**

* * *

Ysrae sighs heavily. It is another sleepless night, or what Ysrae guesses is night. She hasn't seen the sky for what feels like ages. According to the marks she made on the cage they keep her in, it has only been a fortnight. She is the only Snow Elf left in this Gods forsaken cave. Some of the bandits left with Faiyis earlier today. Ysrae thought she heard them say something about an Orc stronghold, but she cannot be certain.

She shifts her position. Her hip is starting to ache from lying on her side for too long on the cold, hard ground. Ysrae refuses to change positions. From her current spot, she is facing a wall at the back of her cage. She can't see anything happening around her, but the bandits also cannot see that she is awake. And if they see she's awake, they will make her get up and do something. Ysrae guesses it is to keep her from knowing how long it's been since they brought her here. Or maybe the leader doesn't want her to get proper sleep, not that she could get any regardless. Ysrae's sleep has been light and fitful. When she does fall into deep sleep, she is plagued by nightmares.

"Hey, get up," a gravelly voice says.

She continues to pretend to be asleep. Ysrae knows it's the Argonian. He has a distinct voice and is the only one to show her any kindness. He's also one of the few non-humans. He sighs and Ysrae hears the rattle of a key being inserted into the lock.

"Come now. You're going to get me in trouble with the boss."

Ysrae huffs and sits up. She can't help but stare at him. Before she was brought here, she had never seen an Argonian and his curling horns and feathers on his head are an enigma to her.

He slides the cage door open. She looks away and hugs her knees. She's afraid today is the day the leader will take her by force. She has seen the way he stares at her while she cooks or mines or whatever labor he asks of her. Thus far, Ysrae has done everything he's asked, true to her word. She's managed to rebuff all his lewd comments about getting her in bed, without being too rude. She would bet he thinks she's playing hard to get.

Ysrae hears the Argonian shuffle closer. She glances up at him. She thinks there is pity in his stormy gray eyes but they blend in with his dark gray scales, making it hard to read his emotions.

He crouches next to Ysrae, "Look, I know this hasn't been easy for you. But the more you make him wait the angrier he'll get."

Ysrae swallows hard and nods. "Can I ask you something?" she whispers.

"So you do speak," he gives her a toothy grin.

She doesn't return the smile. "What do you think of your boss?" She keeps her voice low, but the sound of the stream flowing nearby should cover her words from anyone but the Argonian.

"Hmph. He's a right bastard," he whispers back. He grimaces and stands up. "Now, let us go before he comes for us."

Ysrae reluctantly stands and holds out her wrists, expecting him to bind them.

He shakes his head and gently pushes her in front of him, "I don't see the point in restraining you. We aren't going very far and we out-number you."

Ysrae starts walking, "Yes, but I think it's nighttime. There is hardly anyone around."

"Hmm, I knew you weren't as dumb as these Nords made you out to be."

Ysrae can hear the smile in his voice. She could almost smile. Almost. Ysrae pauses at the top of the sloping path located behind her cage.

"He's in his private area," the Argonian answers her silent question.

She nods and continues forward. She turns left when she reaches the stone wall and stares at the thick, brown curtain haphazardly hung across a narrow entryway. Her heart is racing, she has never come to his "quarters" with the curtain closed.

"Here, boss," the Argonian says loudly.

"Bout time. Send 'er in," the Nord grumbles.

Ysrae takes a deep, calming breath and holds her head high. She lifts the curtain and slips through.

The Nord is sitting in a chair and heavily leaning on a small table, a tankard clutched tightly in his hand. It looks like he's barely able to hold himself up and he smells strongly of mead.

"Come 'ere girl," he growls. Surprisingly he isn't slurring his words yet.

Ysrae moves closer but she's careful to stay out of his reach. He leans forward and grabs her arm with surprising speed. He pulls her into his lap. Ysrae is surprised but manages not to react.

"I told you ta come," he rumbles in her ear.

Ysrae suppresses a shudder and keeps her voice even, "I did come."

He growls, "You know what I want. Your pushback was cute at first, but now I want obedience."

Ysrae tries to say something but he covers her mouth with his hand.

"**Complete** obedience. You elves always find a way not to completely follow through on your words."

Ysrea pries his hand off her face and retorts, "It's not my fault you were not more thorough when we made a deal. I follow your orders and I heal you and whoever else you want me to heal. Besides, you made a deal with a conniving elf."

He slaps her and shoves her to the ground. Ysrae gasps in surprise. He downs whatever was left in the tankard and stands, looming over her.

He slowly undoes his breeches, "We can do this tha easy way or tha hard way."

Bile rises in Ysrae's throat. She shoots him a glare and slowly stands up. Ysrae has never hated another living being the way she hates this Nord. She carefully moves around him and sits on the bed. She hates herself for what she's about to do, but she knows now is not the time to fight. She swallows hard and slips her ragged tunic over her head and tosses it off to the side.

The Nord leers at her, "Too bad. I was hoping you would resist."

Ysrae bites back a retort and allows him to turn her and shove her face into the bed. She bites her lip and braces for the brutality to come.

….

Ysrae carefully grinds deathbell and imp stool in a bowl. She supposed to be making a healing salve, but the bandits here have such a disdain for magic and alchemy there's no way they could know that's not what she's making. _They don't even have a proper alchemy lab for Gods sake!_ Ysrae concentrates on the task at hand. This is too important for mistakes.

Once she's satisfied with the consistency, Ysrae uses the jagged rock she used to crush the plants to cut her finger. She squeezes her finger and lets the blood mix with the paste. She heals her finger and quickly stirs. Ysrae discreetly looks around to make sure no one is paying attention to her. Luckily for her, it seems as long as she doesn't make any sudden moves, no one pays her any mind.

She scrapes the mixture into a cup and takes it to the cooking fire where there is a pot of hot water waiting for her. She fills the cup halfway and stirs it thoroughly. She quickly downs the drink. It tastes foul and burns all the way down. She cannot help but wrinkle her nose in disgust. If she had an alchemy lab, she would be able to make a proper potion to keep from getting pregnant, but this will have to do. Unfortunately for her, this impure drink has painful side-effects. She can already feel her hands starting to shake.

She quickly cleans up her alchemy supplies and heads for her cage. The only good thing about sleeping with the pig of a leader is Ysrae has been able to convince him that she cares for him and in turn she is allowed to move around somewhat freely. She ducks under the mostly open door on the cage and tries to get comfortable on her straw pile. A sharp pain is starting to bloom in her stomach. Ysrae closes her eyes and tries to shut out the pain. Tonight will be a long one.

….

Ysrae stares down at the meat she is mindlessly cutting up. _I need to get out of here. I am going to go crazy._

"Wench!" the voice she hates most booms out.

She tightly squeezes the knife in her hand and resists the urge to throw it at his ugly face. She calmly sets it down and turns where his voice came from, careful to keep her eyes averted.

He roughly grabs her shoulders and shakes her, "Where's my dagger you little bitch?"

Ysrae feigns fear and flinches away, "I don't know m'lord."

He backhands her. Pain explodes from her nose.

"Don't lie ta me!" he screams.

Ysrae can feel blood running down her face. She wipes her face with her arm, smearing blood everywhere.

He shoves her against the table and rips at her clothes, "I know ya have it. You've been planning ta kill me."

Ysrae forces a look of surprise and hurt on her face, "Why would I ever hurt you m'lord?"

He smiles widely at her. Ysrae can hear low murmuring. She keeps herself from sneaking a peek over his shoulder and lowers her gaze. _Not yet. Not. Yet._

He loosens his grip on her and grabs her chin, titling her head back. Ysrae stares blankly at him. He kisses her tenderly. It takes everything in her not to react negatively. This brute has been pulling stunts like this since he first forced himself on Ysrae; Auri-El knows how long ago. She thinks it's so he can break her with harsh punishments and affection as a reward. Unfortunately for him, Ysrae knows what real love feels like and she hates him with every fiber of her being.

He finally breaks the kiss and steps back. He removes a simple bow from his back and holds it out to Ysrae. She gives him a confused look.

His smile broadens, "You have come a long way since ya came 'ere a year ago. I want ya ta show us yer skills with a bow. If yer good enough, you will teach tha men."

Ysrae tears up at the revelation of how long she's been here. It has felt like an eternity but she didn't think she had been here that long. Because of how long she has been here, she most likely will never see her twin again. He must take her reaction as joy because he presses the bow into her hands and caresses her cheek.

"Show us what ya got, love."

Ysrae almost sneers at his pet name. Instead, she moves past him and goes to the adjacent room set up with targets. She stands next to a basket of arrows, grabs an arrow, knocks it, and pulls it back. Ysrae takes a deep breath and releases the arrow on her exhale. It gracefully flies through the air and hits the center of the target. Ysrae shoots arrow after arrow, feeling a small amount of happiness for the first time in a long time.

The Nord stops her with a heavy hand on her shoulder. Ysrae lowers the bow and drops the arrow she was about to shoot. He looks at the cluster of arrows buried at the center of the target and nods approvingly at her.

"You are tha new expert marksman. Now," he rubs dried blood off her face, "get cleaned up and go rest in yer cage."

Ysrae nods, puts the bow on the ground, and exits.

She goes to the stream that runs under an overhang of rock just past "her" cage. She crouches next to the water and carefully feels her nose. She hisses in pain. It is broken and she can feel that it's a little crooked. She punches and ground and grits her teeth. This is nowhere near the worst thing he has done to her, but Ysrae is tired; she doesn't know how much longer she can take this abuse.

"Dammit," she whispers.

"Need any help?"

Ysrae whips around and sees the Argonian holding a bowl and cloth. She huffs and turns back around, "What are you doing here?"

He walks up to her and kneels next to her, "I thought you might need help with your broken nose."

Ysrae just hums in response. She closes her eyes and takes deep breaths. She has to straighten her nose quickly and heal it before the pain is too much to hold it. She lifts her hands to begin but cold, scaly hands gently pull her arms down. Ysrae opens her eyes to his stormy grays pleading with her.

"Let me help you. I might not look like it but I was the unofficial healer before you came here."

"Why?" Ysrae's throat is suddenly dry and she swallows hard, "Why do you want to help me?"

His expression softens, "Because despite all the pain you are in, I can see that you are a kind person. This world is hard on kind people and I don't want your light to be extinguished."

"If that's true, then why are you one of them?" Ysrae shoots back.

He looks away and lowers his voice, "Let us fix your nose. Then I will tell you."

Ysrae nods, "Ok." She turns towards him and kneels to stabilize herself. "I need you to get my nose as straight as you can and hold it there. I will do my best not to move, but don't stop holding it until I heal myself. Sound good?"

He nods and grabs her face, his thumbs hovering on either side of her nose. "Ready?" he questions quietly.

Ysrae takes a few steadying breaths and nods.

"Sorry," he murmurs, putting pressure on it.

Pain shoots through her face, making her eyes instantly tear up. Ysrae grits her teeth but manages not to move or make a sound.

"Alright."

Ysrae can't see through her watering eyes, but she sends a large, steady amount of magicka to her face. The spell sings around them and lights up the dark area. Ysrae can feel her nose knitting itself back together. When the pain is gone and she no longer feels her nose mending, she cuts off her spell.

"Thank you," Ysrae whispers.

The Argonian nods and gently wipes her tears away, "It's the least I could do."

"Yes, but you did not have to. No one else in this place would have helped," she gives him a small smile.

He stares at her, an unreadable expression on his scaly face.

Ysrae averts her eyes, "Anyways, you said you would tell me why you are here."

He sighs and lowers his hands. He looks at the ground, "I hope you won't think any less of me than you already do. I will have to tell you a lot about myself, so this will be a long story."

"That is ok," Ysrae whispers gently, "I am not exactly busy."

He glances up at her and she gives him a small smile. He looks away and grabs the forgotten bowl and cloth sitting next to him, "May I clean the blood off your face? I know you can do it yourself, but will have an easier time telling you if my hands are busy."

Ysrae hesitates. She eventually nods her consent and sits cross-legged.

"Thank you," he murmurs. He dips the cloth in the water in the bowl and wrings it out. "Lucky for you the water is still warm." He takes a deep breath and gently dabs at her face, "I have been in Skyrim since I was a hatchling. I grew up in Windhelm, but I left once I was old enough to be on my own. I traveled to Hjaalmarch and explored the marshes. There, I learned to sneak and the basics in fighting. I became an excellent scout," he smiles at Ysrae, a twinkle in his eyes.

Ysrae raises an eyebrow, confused as to what the joke is.

The Argonian chuckles uncomfortably, "You know. Like my name?"

"Ah," Ysrae looks at the ground, "sorry, but I do not know your name. I probably have heard someone say your name but…" Ysrae pauses and gives him an apologetic look. "I have been so angry about the wipe out of my clan that I have made it a point not to know anyone's name. Strategically, I know that is not the right move. However, with what happened, I refuse to show any respect to anyone here." Ysrae looks away and picks at her nails; something she tends to do when she is uncomfortable or nervous. "Plus, it's not like anyone knows my name," she mumbles.

"If you say so, Ysrae," he chuckles, tossing the rag into the bowl. Before she has time to process his words, he continues, "Anyways I became a good scout. I would occasionally travel to Morthal to buy supplies or look for work. One day, I learned someone had gone missing. I decided to investigate and see if I could help. The person had last been seen in a cave southwest of Morthal. I found the cave, along with a bear eating someone at the mouth.

"I managed to kill the bear and decided to explore the cave before I did anything with the poor soul. That was a huge mistake," he chuckles. "There were three more bears in the cave. I am good at sneaking, but it is difficult to sneak around a predator like that in an enclosed space, let alone three of them. They caught a whiff of me and attacked. I got away in the nearby river, but not before they ripped my pack off my back and gravely injured me. Tove- er the boss found me down stream. He gave me a couple healing potions and helped me get my things back."

"You owe him your life," Ysrae sighs.

He nods, "At the time he was a lone mercenary. I traveled Skyrim with him until we found this place. He decided he wanted to set up camp here and get more men. He started a gambling ring, hence the arena down there," he jerked his head behind him. "Any man could fight and it was never to the death. Up until the raid on your clan, he hadn't done anything so morally disgusting, at least what I had seen. I used to be away more than I was here."

"So…" Ysrae carefully picks her words, "you did not want to attack my people?"

He shakes his head, "I did not even know about it until he brought you all here. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't even see me for a week. I haven't left this cave since you got here either. I think he's afraid I will leave and tell the guards about this."

Ysrae desperately wants to ask if he would even consider helping her get out, but she holds her tongue. She lets out a breath and softly whispers, "I am sorry. You are just as much a prisoner as I am."

He chuckles darkly, "And yet I have it much easier than you." He looks around and moves closer to Ysrae, talking in a low voice, "Look, if an opportunity arises, I will help you get out of here. I can't promise Tove will be killed, but I will do what I can to get you out of here."

Ysrae's eyes well up with unwanted tears. She blinks rapidly and puts a hand to her mouth, "False hope is crueler than torture." The Argonian has been nothing but kind to her, but she can't bring herself to blindly believe him. Her trust in others has been broken.

A cool, scaly hand gently touches her arm. She lets him pull her into a hug. She throws her arms around him, tears streaming down her face.

His arms tighten around her, "I swear on my life, I will help get you out of here. Scouts-Many-Marshes does not go back on his word."

"He better not," Ysrae murmurs into his shoulder, his curved horns resting against her head. A sliver of hope blossoms in her chest.


	3. Chapter 3

Ugh it has been WAY too long! This chapter took much longer than I would have liked, but I didn't want to rush things. Hopefully it doesn't feel rushed. Sorry for such a long wait! Rest assured, I have no plans on giving up on this story. If I ever do, I will post an update. Sorry again for the wait! Reviews/messages and follows appreciated.

**Note: I do not own Skyrim or its characters. I have only thought up my own OCs for this story. This is rated M for a reason and will have mature themes. I will try to remember to put a warning before every chapter but if one is missing or you think something should be added please let me know. Also, here is a small guide to help with my writing style.**

_Italicized with no_ quotes is the character's thoughts

"No italics with quotes," is the characters speaking the common tongue.

_"Italicized with quotes," _is the character speaking another language, most likely falmer.

**Hope that helps.**

**WARNINGS:mild language, violence**

* * *

"Get outta my sight!" the Nord bellows.

Ysrae ducks as a tankard is thrown at her and leaves her captor's quarters. She hears him curse and break something. She huffs and briskly walks to the archery area. She picks up a bow and arrows and begins shooting a dummy, anger bubbling up. She shoots the dummy in the head over and over, imagining the face of the pig enslaving her.

"What happened today?"

Ysrae glances at the doorway and sees Scouts leaning on the wall.

"Hmph," she shoots the dummy. "The usual. I tried to convince him to give back my amulet."

Scouts scoffs and moves next to Ysrae, "I do not know why he just doesn't just give it back to you."

Ysrae grunts her agreement. "One would think he would return it since he **loves me**," Ysrae sneers.

Scouts' eyes widen, "He said that?"

Ysrae nods, "He is twisted." She sighs and sags. It feels like there is a massive weight on her shoulders. "I do not know how long I keep up this act." She puts her head in her hand, holding back a sob.

Scouts puts his hand on her shoulder. Ysrae leans towards him and allows Scouts to pull her into a gentle embrace.

"I am so tired of pretending to care about that bastard," She mutters into his shoulder.

His arms tighten around her, "I can only imagine," he whispers. "I will get you out of here and it will be alright."

Ysrae sighs. "I know. I-It's hard. I am just so tired."

Scouts moves back just enough so he's looking in Ysrae's eyes. "Don't give up yet Ysrae." He strokes her cheek, "I have a feeling my opportunity to get you out will be soon."

Ysrae sniffs, "I hope you are right. Ysrae silently cries into his shoulder as he strokes her long jet-black hair.

….

Ysrae carefully scrapes imp stool and deathbell paste into a healing potion. Many of the bandits, including the leader, are gone for a raid. Ysrae is using the opportunity to sabotage the supply of healing potions. She smiles and replaces the stopper for the potion, shaking the bottle until there is no sign anything was added to it.

"That's not for me is it?"

Ysrae gasps and spins around. She releases her breath when she sees it's Scouts, "Gods you scared me! No, it is not for you. Do not drink any of the potions in here."

Scouts walks to Ysrae and takes the potion from her hand, "What will happen if I do?"

Ysrae shrugs, "It should not kill you, but it will not heal you either. Might be painful." Ysrae replaces the bottle on the shelf. She glances at Scouts, "You aren't going to tell anyone about this…right?"

Scouts softly laughs, "Wouldn't dream of it."

Ysrae gives him a grateful smile. Her eyes drop to the ground, her smile falling.

She hugs herself, "Do…do you think I would be able to sneak out? While **he's** gone?"

Scouts gives her a sad smile, "I wouldn't try it. Because most of them are gone, there are more people guarding the entrance. I don't think they would kill you, but I assume the punishment would be severe."

Ysrae nods and sighs. "Yes, you are right. And you cannot try to sneak out. They would kill you."

Ysrae's eyes widen. That last part slipped out. Scouts' eyes are wide.

"I-I am sorry," she whispers. "I never meant to tell you that. I know he used to be your friend but…" Ysrae trails off, feeling helpless.

Scouts sighs and crosses his arms, "No. It's ok. I think I knew if I showed any sign of disobedience I would be killed. We have not been real friends for quite some time. Although, it is weird to hear it out loud."

Ysrae nods, meeting his eyes. "Are you ok?"

He gives her a toothy smile. His pointed teeth used to unnerve her; now his smile is one of the few things she likes.

"Well," he holds his hand out to her, "shall we ruin some healing potions?"

….

Ysrae stares blankly at two men and a woman poorly shooting arrows into targets. If she actually cared, she would be correcting all of their techniques. But she does not care and she does not want to show the enemy how to aim better. She has given them some tips so they have improved slightly, but not enough to really be helpful; like how to conserve your stamina.

The woman huffs in frustration and tosses down her simple wooden bow, "What's the point of this? I only ever use a warhammer."

The two men mutter they're agreement.

She smiles maliciously at Ysrae, "We only have to do this because of Tove's obsessions with this **elf**." She sneers the last word.

Ysrae just crosses her arms and says in a monotone voice, "Get back to shooting."

The Nord woman gets in her face and growls, "What are you going to do about it, **elf**?"

Ysrae looks down at the shorter woman, unimpressed. "I do not care what you do," Ysrae smiles sweetly at her. "By all means, disobey the boss's orders. I'm sure he will not mind you defied him."

She turns a deep red and storms off. Ysrae just shakes her head. The men glance at Ysrae, but eventually go back to shooting. They clearly don't want to enrage their short-tempered leader. Ysrae moves to correct the closest one's stance, but shouting explodes in the background. Ysrae thinks she hears something along the lines of 'that damn mouthy elf.'

Ysrae rolls her eyes and proceeds to adjust the man's grip on his bow. Stomping steps enter the room. Ysrae glances over her shoulder and sees the woman is back, a smug grin on her face. Next to her is the leader. Ysrae immediately lowers her gaze and turns to face him, giving him a slight bow.

"Care ta explain?" he growls.

Ysrae straightens up, but he holds his hand up to her and turns his gaze to the woman.

"Care ta explain why ya bothered me when she's doin' what she's supposed ta?"

Her smug face falls and she clears her throat, "The elf may be doing what she's supposed to now, but she wasn't being helpful before you came in."

"Did you want me to hold your hand?" Ysrae can't help the snide remark from slipping past her lips.

Lucky for her, the boss roars with laughter, "Can't handle one little elf, Freva?" He moves to Ysrae and slips an arm around her waist, still laughing.

Ysrae decides to get revenge and whispers in his ear, "M'lord, she threw down her bow and refused to keep practicing before she started bothering you. She said learning how to use a bow was a waste of time. Perhaps we should teach her a lesson?"

He grunts.

Ysrae takes this as a sign to continue, "Maybe she will listen better if she is beaten in a fair fight against a "filthy" elf."

He smiles sadistically, "I have a better idea." He lets go of Ysrae and walks to the woman, blocking her from view. "Congratulations Freva. You've won a fight ta the death with tha elf down in tha pit."

Ysrae is surprised, but smiles. She could do with a good fight, especially against this woman who has mocked and tortured Ysrae any chance she gets.

"Go wait by tha pit," he commands without looking at Ysrae, "I will bring you a weapon inna bit."

Ysrae nods and rushes away, missing whatever he orders the rest of them to do. Excited/nervous energy rushes through her and she quickly makes it to the pit. She absently mindedly grabs at her chest, looking for the amulet of Auri-El she hasn't had for ages. She clenches her fist, anger beginning to flood her.

"Hey."

Ysrae jumps and looks over her shoulder, relieved to see Scouts-Many-Marshes.

"So," he moves closer and stands in front of Ysrae, "you are going to be fighting Freva."

Ysrae smiles, "It appears so."

Scouts-Many-Marshes frowns at her, "I know you don't particularly like anyone here, but she isn't a terrible person. I know," he says before Ysrae can retort, "she has been unkind to you, but she is in love with Tove. Truthfully, it may also be partly because you're an elf. But I think it's mostly because, in her mind, Tove favors you."

Ysrae huffs and looks away in disgust, "If he "favors" me I would hate to see how treats someone he does not favor."

Scouts-Many-Marshes sighs, "Look, I am not asking you to like her, but please," he clutches Ysrae's hands in his, "don't kill her. She is one of the few friends I have left in this place and I don't think she truly hates elves. She wasn't part of the group that attacked your clan. She was here with me and a couple others. She would not say what everyone left for, just that she refused to go."

Ysrae sighs and looks into his gray eyes, "He said it was to the death. But if I can, I will avoid killing her…for you."

Scouts-Many-Marshes's face seems to darken and he turns away. Ysrae stares at him. _Is he blushing?_ She smiles and pats his hand.

He clears his throat and faces her, "Thank you." Scouts lowers his voice, "You aren't going to see me for a while. I should be able to sneak out during all the excitement."

Ysrae's eyes light up, "Do you have a plan?"

"Somewhat," he mumbles. "Look, it will take me some time, but I will be back as soon as I can."

Ysrae nods, a smile tugging at her lips. "You better get going," she murmurs, "he should be here soon."

Scouts hums his agreement and gives Ysrae's hand one last squeeze, "Stay strong land strider."

Ysrae takes a deep breath and turns away, hand clutched to her chest. "_Auri-El grant me strength,"_ she whispers. Ysrae knows she would normally be able to beat the Nord woman no problem. However, she knows she isn't in the best physical condition. If she's honest with herself, she is not in a good state of mind either. The abuse from her captor is taking its toll on her.

She hears heavy footfalls behind her. Ysrae turns and sees the leader. He has a surprisingly gentle look on his face.

"You ready?" he questions.

Ysrae nods, "What will I be fighting with m'lord?"

He smirks, "A bow o' course." He pulls Ysrae's bow from his back and hands it to her.

Her brow furrows. Ysrae prefers a bow the majority of the time, but a bow is at a disadvantage in this sort of situation. She will be vulnerable in close combat. Ysrae can feel anger rising in her chest, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She swallows hard but says nothing.

"Oh," he puts his hand in a pouch he always has around his waist, "you also get this." He hands her his personal glass dagger.

Ysrae chokes back more anger. "Thank you," she manages to rasp out.

Everything is always a game with this skeever. Ysrae slips by him, going to get some arrows. He grabs her wrist and yanks her back.

She can't help but glare at him, "I need arrows if I am to fight with a bow."

She wrenches her arm out of his hand and swiftly walks away. She returns to the training area and angrily packs a quiver full of steel arrows. _I will not lose to these Nords. I have more motivation to live than they ever will_, Ysrae thinks angrily.

"It's a shame," a deep voice rumbles behind her.

Ysrae turns and crosses her arms. A young, blonde Nord is leering at her. She gives him an icy stare, but stays silent. His smirk falters.

"Speak," she demands.

He mumbles something unintelligible. Ysrae snorts. _That's what I thought._ Ysrae grabs the quiver and stalks out of the room. She takes a deep breath and slows her pace. She slowly makes her way back to the fighting pit. She is not looking forward to this, but at the same time she needs to vent her rage.

The leader gives her entry to the pit, glowering at her. Ysrae knows she will pay for her 'disrespect' later. She sighs and makes her way to the center of the pit. The Nord woman isn't here yet. Ysrae goes to the stream flowing along the edge of the pit. She kneels next to it and splashes water on her face. The cold water shocks her senses and makes her feel revitalized. She whispers a prayer to Auri-El and tries to quiet her mind. Ysrae is not sure how, but she needs to find a way to disarm and incapacitate the Nord without killing her.

Jeers and whoops ring out, signaling the arrival of Ysrae's opponent. She sighs and stands, looking up at the bandits gathering around the pit. Most of them look…feral. There's a bloodlust in their eyes that can only be satiated with death. Ysrae swallows hard. She is becoming more and more unsure if she will be able to spare the Nord. Speaking of, said Nord is making her way down the wooden ramp into the pit. The Nord is smiling and causally waving at her comrades like this is a game.

Fury rises in Ysrae. Something like this should be treated as a Gods damn solemn occasion. _I caused this._ Ysrae freezes from that thought. _I caused this and I was excited._ Shame swells in her, leaving an acrid lump in her throat. _I am no better than them._

The door to the pit closes with a clang, but Ysrae barely hears it. The cheers get louder as the Nord- as Freva takes her place ten feet across from Ysrae.

"Put that snowback in ground!"

"Kill the elf!"

Ysrae clenches her jaw. _Hopefully they will not kill me if I defeat her._

"Right," the leader's voice booms out, "Freva feels the elf disrespected her. An' tha elf wants ta put her in her place."

Booing rings out. Ysrae swallows hard. _I regret making this happen._

"Ta settle tha score, they will fight ta tha death," an insane smile crosses the leaders face. Cheers erupt.

_Why? Why did this have to happen? All I wanted was to spar. To blow off steam._

"Prepare yourselves!" he bellows.

Freva draws what looks like a steel greatsword from her back. Ysrae slings the quiver onto her back and knocks an arrow, but leaves the bow lax in front of herself. _It is too late to go back now. I can beat her. I have to beat her._

"Begin," he yells.

Freva screams a war cry and charges. The scream shoots icy fear into Ysrae's veins, but she holds steady. She expected Freva to charge immediately. Freva swings the sword down and Ysrae rolls behind the woman at the last possible moment. The blade hits the ground with a solid thunk. Ysrae gets up, puts the arrow between her teeth, and moves back just in time to dodge Freva's sweeping back swing. Ysrae can hear the crowd jeering. She ignores them, she has to concentrate.

Ysrae swiftly and easily dodges Freva's next few attacks. Freva roars in frustration and swings the sword high over her head. Ysrae gambles and blocks the blade coming down on her with her bow. Freva's eyes widen in surprise. Ysrae forces the blade off to the side, leaving Freva's flank open. Before Freva can react, Ysrae kicks her hard in the knee. She falls to the ground and loses her grip on the sword. Ysrae smoothly removes the arrow from her teeth, knocks it, and draws her bow. Ysrae strides backwards out of Freva's reach. Freva has a look of shock, anger, and shame mixed on her face.

"It's over," Ysrae whispers, loud enough only for Freva to hear. "I do not wish to kill you. I was told you refused to attack my clan."

Freva laughs, "A lot of good that does me now. I'm guessing Marshes told you?"

Ysrae stares down at her, unmoving. She refuses to give away her only friend in this Gods forsaken place.

"I told him not to get all buddy buddy with you. Tove's not so little elf squeeze."

Fury engulfs Ysrae. She shoots an arrow just next to Freva's leg and draws another.

"Do you really think," Ysrae says in a low, quivering voice, "I want to be in his bed almost every night? What I want more than anything is to be back home with my friends and family he killed." Tears prick her eyes, "My father died in my arms because of that _dirty bastard._"

"Finish it," the leader calls out.

"I'm sorry," Freva murmurs, "but we can't both leave alive." She throws dirt in Ysrae's face.

Ysrae gasps and stumbles back, "_You Nord bitch!"_

Ysrae drops her bow, covering her burning eyes with her hands. She can hear movement. She moves her hands and blinks rapidly, desperately trying to get rid of the irritant without rubbing her eyes. The tears in her eyes have made her virtually blind. She sees movement and tries to roll in the opposite direction. She trips and hits the ground, landing hard on her chest.

She feels the wind of something pass by her. She launches herself forward, praying to Auri-El the Nord woman isn't in front of her. She quickly wipes the tears from her eyes. Her vision is still blurry, but she can see the stream off to her left. She runs for it. Ysrae slides into the stream and dunks her head into the water. She pulls her head out and gasps for air. She wipes her eyes just in time to see a sword swinging at her. She gathers all of her magica into her hands just as the blade hits her side.

Ysrae cries out in pain as she's flung to the ground. She releases a healing cloak spell. Ysrae rolls away.

The woman laughs, "A little spell won't save you from me."

Singing gold light swirls around Ysrae. She can feel the gash in her side sewing itself back together. Ysrae gets to her knees and discreetly pulls out the glass dagger. The woman charges and Ysrae launches herself towards her. Ysrae thrusts the dagger. It hits her target, sinking to the hilt under the Nord's chin. The Nord's eyes go wide, her body going slack. Ysrae holds her up, her beautiful golden spell still swirling around her.

"H-How?" the Nord wheezes out, blood flowing from her mouth.

Ysrae whispers in her ear, "How are you not being healed by my spell? I worked hard to make this spell so it only affects me. Or are you asking how I beat you?" Ysrae rips the dagger from the other woman's throat and lets her crumple to the ground. "I beat you because I am stronger than you."

Ysrae looks up at everyone watching. They are all silent, stunned. They clearly thought their friend would win. The only one not frozen with shock is the leader. He smiles widely and opens the pit door. Ysrae looks back down at the woman. Blood stains the ground. It appears she is no longer breathing.

"I'm sorry Scouts," she whispers. Ysrae drops the dagger. She sighs and slowly leaves the pit. She goes to the slightly private area of the stream where Scouts helped her fix her nose. She stares at her blood covered hands, shaking. Ysrae falls to her knees.

_I did not want to kill her. I just wanted to teach her a lesson._ Ysrae squeezes her eyes shut, forcing back tears. _Why did it have to end this way?_ She hugs herself, stifling a sob. _I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to be forced to share his bed anymore. Everything hurts. I just want to be with father._

Ysrae's arms drop to her side. There are voices behind her. She thinks she hears the leader, but she cannot make out the words. They sound miles away. She turns back. They are moving towards her.

"_Forgive me, Father_," Ysrae whispers. She pulls magica to her hand, "_I am so tired of fighting._"

Ysrae releases the magica and forms a shimmering barrier, blocking the only way into the stream. The leader slams his fists into the barrier. Ysrae turns away. She grabs her head and screams her anguish; tears bursting forth.


	4. Chapter 4

This took WAY longer than I wanted it to. Took me awhile to decide what Ysrae's power was going to be. Anyway, hopefully the next chapter will come to me easier. Thank you to the people you have followed and/or added this story to their favorites! I greatly appreciate it and it helps give me motivation to make time to work on LOTSE. THANK YOU!

**Note: I do not own Skyrim or its characters. I have only thought up my own OCs for this story. This is rated M for a reason and will have mature themes. I will try to remember to put a warning before every chapter but if one is missing or you think something should be added please let me know. Also, here is a small guide to help with my writing style**.

_Italicized with no_ quotes is the character's thoughts

"No italics with quotes," is the characters speaking the common tongue.

_"Italicized with quotes," _is the character speaking another language, most likely falmer.

**Hope that helps.**

**WARNINGS:mild langue, blood, and fighting.**

* * *

Mol drinks deeply from his tankard. He's seated in the corner of Vilemyr Inn in Ivarstead. He's been trying to drink away his problems. Of course, it won't work, but it feels good to forget for a while. Mol's thoughts drift to his former tribe. The look of disappointment on his mother's face is seared into his mind. He growls and downs the rest of his drink. Some of the patrons are staring at him wearily, as if he is a wild animal about to attack.

He signals the barmaid for another drink. She swiftly brings him another. _At least she seems to have gotten used to my presence._

"Thanks," he grunts, dropping coin into her hand.

_It probably helps I tip her well at the end of the night._ Mol snorts. The septims are most likely why he's been tolerated for the past week. Mol's interactions with humans have been limited up to this point; in his experience, they have a hard time getting over his green complexion and tusks.

A crack of thunder cuts through the warm atmosphere. Apparently, the weather is matching Mol's stormy mood. He chuckles darkly and drinks half the tankard in two gulps. He pushes his mage's hood off his head and goes to run his hand through his hair. His hand stops short. He sighs and pulls the hood back over his head. _I keep forgetting I cut my hair off._ He finishes his fifth drink of the night.

Before he can signal for another, the door bursts open. A drenched Argonian comes in, closing the door behind him. No one seems to have noticed the man. Mol watches him. To him, it seems the Argonian has an air of desperation surrounding him. The Argonian catches Mol staring. Mol looks into his empty tankard. _Please don't come over here._

"Hey," a voice rasps out.

Mol looks up, "Yes?"

"Do you happen to be a warrior for hire?"

Mol stares coolly at him. "It depends. What do you need a warrior for?"

The Argonian stares hard at him. He sighs, "May I sit?"

Mol waves at the seat across from him. The Argonian sits and stares at his hands. Mol waves the barmaid over and orders two drinks. The Argonian seems to be gathering his thoughts. The barmaid brings the drinks back, setting one in front of the Argonian. He gives Mol a questioning look.

"I need a drink," Mol says in his deep rumbling voice, "and it's rude not to order a drink for a guest."

"Fair enough," he takes a drink. He sets the tankard down and settles in. "My name is Scouts-Many-Marshes. I am trying to find a warrior to help me rescue someone."

Mol raises an eyebrow at him. _Why is he looking here and not a main hold?_ He takes a drink.

The Argonian sighs, "Look I have been to Windhelm and back looking for help. I can't find anyone willing to do anything. Are you a warrior or not?"

Mol takes another drink and puts down his tankard harder than he means to. "I am, but if I help you depends on what kind of rescue this is. If you're trying to break someone out of jail or anything involving the law, you can forget about it."

Scouts-Many-Marshes shakes his head, "It is not like that. A woman's family was killed and she was kidnapped by a group of mercenaries turned bandits."

"How do you know that?" Mol gives him a piercing stare.

Scouts-Many-Marshes looks away and drains his tankard. His silence is answer enough for Mol.

"So," Mol sits back and crosses his arm, "you want to betray your friends for a woman."

"They stopped being my friends when they eradicated the last remains of a race," Scouts shoots back.

"Hmm? What do you mean?" Mol leans forward, curious.

Scouts-Many-Marshes leans in closer. "They killed off what may have been the last group of Snow Elves," he says in a low voice, "and the last one is trapped. Being abused."

Mol sits back, stunned. "I can see why you left," he murmurs. "I've always been curious about the Snow Elves. I can't believe there's one left."

"Her name is Ysrae," Scouts-Many-Marshes says angrily.

"Right, sorry," Mol rumbles. He finishes his drink and thinks. "I will help you, but not tonight. Drink and battle do not mix."

The Argonian nods, "As long as we leave at first light. Ysrae has been trapped a long time and I think she is close to breaking."

Mol gives him a sympathetic look and nods, "In that case, I best get to sleeping this off." Mol stands, swaying slightly.

Scouts-Many-Marshes eyes widen, "You are much bigger than I thought you were."

Mol smirks, "I'm the largest Orc you will ever see."

Scouts-Many-Marshes chuckles, "That I do not doubt."

Mol grunts and staggers to his room, the mead finally hitting him. He falls into bed; the bed groaning in protest. His eyes feel heavy. He lets the darkness of sleep overtake him.

….

Mol groans. A knock pierces his head, most likely what woke him up in the first place. He mumbles unintelligibly. He forces his heavy eyelids open and sits up, holding his head. Mol has had worse hangovers, but it's never enjoyable.

"Are you awake or should I keep knocking?" a muffled voice asks.

_Right. The Argonian._ "Yea. Just come in," he grumbles.

Scouts opens the door, letting light into Mol's dark sanctuary. Mol groans and shoves his face into the furs on his bed. He hears the door close but refuses to look up.

"If you can handle it, we should get moving," the Argonian says coolly.

"Yea, yea," Mol groans and sits up. "Remind me where we are going? Last nights a little fuzzy."

Scouts crosses his arms and leans against the wall, "Lost knife hideout. It's a ways northeast from here."

Mol nods and stands, his head spinning slightly. He ignores it and stretches; his back popping. He sighs in satisfaction and sits back down. He grabs a jug full of water from the bed stand and slowly drinks it.

_What were the details he told me last night? Bunch of his ex-friends have become bandits. Said bandits are holding a girl captive and being horrible to her. And…she's a Snow Elf!_

Mol chokes on the water at this last thought. He eventually calms down his coughing and stares at Scouts-Many-Marshes.

"Is she really a Snow Elf?"

Scouts nods, "Someone in our group heard rumor of a small clan of Snow Elves in the Velothi Mountains. And my friends wiped them out," he says bitterly. "It is most of the reason why I am betraying them."

Mol nods and starts to put on his steel plate armor, "How long ago was this?"

"Around six months ago," Scouts mumbles, staring at the wall. "Ysrae thinks it has been longer though."

Mol wants to ask why it took him so long to leave…but he can see the shame on Scouts face and leaves it be.

"Think she would be willing to teach me about the Snow Elves?" Mol asks instead.

Scouts looks up in surprise, "Uhhh….probably."

Mol can't help but grin slightly as excitement bubbles up. _I really hope she will be willing to teach me._

"Why are you interested?" Scouts questions; a strange look in his eyes.

"Who wouldn't be interested?" Mol shoots back, a little too loudly. He lowers his voice, "Getting to learn about the ancient Falmer is a once in a lifetime chance. I would gladly put off going to the College of Winterhold for several years to learn about the Falmer."

Mol freezes. He didn't mean to mention that bit about the mage's college. Mol glances at Scouts, whose face is surprisingly blank.

"You're a mage then?" Scouts askes deadpan.

"Err…," Mol looks away and finishes gathering what little possessions he has; avoiding the question.

He drinks a small healing potion in one gulp. It wouldn't due for Mol to get dizzy or sick in the middle of a fight. He secures his battle axe as well as his mostly empty pack to his back and puts up his mage hood.

"Let's go," Mol grunts. He smiles once Scout's back is turned. It's time for a good fight.

….

They reach the cave next to a stream just as the pink and orange of sunrise are disappearing. Mol pauses and swallows down a stamina potion.

"How many enemies should we expect?" Mol asks, throwing the empty vial into his pack.

"There should be around thirty," Scouts grimaces.

Mol gives him a sympathetic look, "You sure you're ready for this?"

Mol wants to ask if Scouts-Many-Marshes would rather wait here, but Mol would hate to have it suggested himself so he holds his tongue.

"Yea," Scouts grits his teeth. "Let's go," he pulls out a sword and slips into the entrance.

Mol shrugs and follows him. It's dark inside and the stream runs along a rocky path. Mol carefully moves forward. He can't see or hear anyone, but the stream makes it impossible for the latter. Scouts is a little farther up, crouched next a rock pillar. Mol moves next to him and kneels down.

"There should be one or two people on guard around this bend," Scouts whispers just loud enough for Mol to hear him.

Mol leans around the pillar and can see the warm light of a torch ahead. He grunts and stands. He moves around the bend and sees two men standing around a fire. He summons ice to his hand and takes careful aim. He shoots out an ice spike, draining the majority of his magicka. The spike hits the man closest to him on the right side of his lower back. He screams out in pain.

_Oops._ Mol readies his axe and charges. The impaled man turns, drawing a mace. The other man is just staring, too shocked to move. Mol swings his axe with a grunt. He hits the man in the chest, ending his misery. The second man finally jumps into action, drawing a sword. He raises his sword over his head. Before he can do anything, a knife flies out of the darkness and buries into his skull. His body falls to the ground.

"Nice hit," Mol says, wrenching his axe free from the body.

"I did not expect you to do that," Scouts mumbles, entering the light.

Mol says nothing and looks around some barrels for anything useful. He finds nothing and moves on. He follows the path to a large cavern with a lake. There are waterfalls rushing into the lake, the roar of which makes it impossible to hear anything else. At the center, there is a large rock pillar with wooden platforms built around it. Mol can see at least two people patrolling.

"Maybe we should try to be quieter from here on out?"

Mol jumps slightly. He didn't hear Scouts approach him.

Mol chuckles, "Sneaking may work for you, but it will not work for someone as large as me in full plate armor. Besides, I'm more of a take the enemy head on kind of guy."

Scouts sighs, "Fine. I will watch your back and give you support."

"As you will," Mol rumbles.

Mol squeezes his axe and strides across the natural bridge connected to the pillar. A woman spots him and pulls out a bow. Mol growls and runs at her. She yells something and takes aim. Mol roars at her, causing her to miss. He rushes her. She screams and tires to pull out a sword. Mol brings his axe down on her. She falls to her knees and Mol kicks her off the blade.

"Hey!" a gruff voice yells.

Mol turns to see a man charging him. Mol blocks his war axe just in time.

"You will pay for that, Orc filth," the man spits out.

Before Mol can retort, a blade bursts through the man's bare stomach; splattering blood all over him. The man falls back as Scouts removes his sword. Mol groans and hastily wipes his face with his hand.

"Bit late, weren't you?" Mol grumbles.

Scouts shrugs, "I got here, didn't I?"

"Hmph," Mol smiles. His smile disappears when he sees movement behind Scouts. "Look out!" he yells.

Mol drops his weapon as he pushes Scouts behind him. Flames burst from his hand into the face of a surprised man. The man screams in pain and runs away, pitching himself into the lake. Mol sighs in relief, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Ok. I admit, we should at least come up with a strategy," Mol holds his hand out to the fallen Scouts. Scouts takes his hand and Mol pulls him to his feet, "Sorry for pushing you so hard."

"Better than being dead," Scouts gives Mol a toothy grin. "Come on," he walks to a table and grabs parchment and a quill, "Let's make a plan."

….

"Should we be worried they were fleeing from something?" Mol wonders aloud, pulling his axe from the back of a woman who managed to slip past him in her terror.

"Yes," Scouts-Many-Marshes whispers. "This is not normal. No one would run like they did," he swept his hand over the four bodies in the narrow tunnel, "if Tove was just on a drunken rampage."

Mol nods, "Let's move quietly, for now. We will be able to hear them coming if anymore run. Plus, we might get an idea of what's happening."

Scouts nods his agreement and the two men crouch down. They move swiftly and mostly noiselessly through the tunnel. They pause when they can see the end of the tunnel. Mol can hear distant yelling…or screaming.

"Damn," Scouts hisses and rushes off.

"Wait!" Mol grabs at Scouts' arm, missing. Mol curses under his breath and follows Scouts.

Mol can't help but feel slightly impressed with the buried fort these bandits called home. He shakes his head. _Gotta concentrate!_ He rushes through a hole in the side of the fort. He sees Scouts' tail disappear around a doorway. Mol grunts and sprints to try to catch up. He catches up after going up stairs and across a bridge.

Scouts is frozen at the beginning of a large cavern. Mol looks where Scouts is looking and freezes. There's an extremely pale woman with black hair kneeling on the ground with two specters guarding her. Bodies litter the ground around them. Mol swallows hard. He straps his axe onto his back and starts to walk to them.

"Wait," Scouts grabs his arm.

Mol turns to him. Scouts looks like he might puke.

"You sure you should go down there?"

"No. But I am going to anyways." Mol pulls his arm from Scouts' grip, "Stay up here. If they kill me, wait them out. They have to disappear eventually."

"Why don't you wait them out, then?"

Scouts' bewildered expression makes Mol laugh. _Cause I'm young and dumb._ Mol opts to leave Scouts without an answer and walks down to the specters. _Plus, this is too interesting to stay away from._ Mol puts his hands up as he approaches. He stops three meters away when the ghosts raise their luminous weapons.

Mol examines the woman, who he assumes is Ysrae. Her eyes are closed and her hands are clasped in front of her. Her lips are moving fervently, but Mol doesn't hear any words. He shifts his attention to the two ghosts, both of whom are staring daggers into him. He takes a moment to really examine them. One of them is male the other female. They appear to be wearing simple light armor. It's hard to make out any discernable features; the one thing Mol is sure of is that they are both taller than himself. Mol is used to being the tallest person in the room. It feels odd to have the tables turned. He vaguely wonders if the only corporeal snow elf in the room is taller than him as well.

Mol lightly shakes his head, forcing himself to focus. "Erm…" Mol is unsure of what to say or do. He clears his throat. "I came to help her," he says in a low voice, tilting his head at Ysrae.

Both of them relax their stances, but don't sheath their weapons. The female says something in a language Mol doesn't recognize. He stares at them. The male looks at her, possibly rolling his eyes and saying something.

"Uh…Sorry but I do not understand." Mol slowly lowers his hands, "So, I'm just going to check on her." Mol glances at both of them and takes a deep breath, "Please don't kill me."

The man nods and steps aside, the woman following his example. _They can understand me?_ Mol swallows hard. He slowly moves closer to Ysrae and kneels in front of her. He releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He looks at her and sees blood running down her arm.

"Damn!" he hisses. _How did I miss this much blood!_

He grabs her bleeding arm. Her eyes snap open. They're glowing bright white. Mol stares in shock.

"What in Oblivian…" he whispers. He squeezes his eyes shut. _Focus! If you don't do something, you'll let the last known snow elf die._

Mol grits his teeth and opens his eyes. Her eyes are boring into him. He carefully ghosts his fingers over the deep gash just above her wrist. _Here goes nothing._ He swallows hard and sends healing magicka to his fingertips. He's never healed someone else before, so he's relieved when the wound slowly starts stitching itself together. Sweat starts to form on his brow. He ignores it and forces his magicka to flow into her faster.

By they time he's depleted his magicka, Mol is panting from the exertion. Her wound isn't completely healed, but it is not bleeding anymore. Mol sees movement from the corner of his eye. He looks up and sees the two ghosts watching him. Their weapons are gone and they are nodding at Mol with approval. The man crouches and puts a hand on Mol's shoulder.

"Arcten sye," he says slowly and clearly. He smiles and they disappear. Ysrae collapses and Mol just manages to catch her.

"What in Nirn was that?" Scouts rushes over.

Mol shrugs, "How should I know. Do Me a favor and get a healing potion out of my pack." Mol feels Scouts digging around his bag. "Hey," Mol says gently to Ysrae.

He lightly slaps her face but she doesn't stir. He puts his fingers on her neck and feels a pulse. Scouts hands him the potion. Mol readjusts her so he is cradling her. He pulls the stopper with his teeth; spitting it out. He tilts her head and carefully pours the potion down her throat.

She stirs, her eyes fluttering. She grimaces and her eyes open, her silver-blue meeting his bright blue. She smiles at him, making his heart skip a beat.

"I have never met an Orc before," she mumbles out. She sounds completely out of it. "Thank you, varlai," she whispers, passing out once more.

Mol tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "She should be ok," he whispers. Mol stands with her in his arms. "Come on," he rumbles, turning to Scouts. "Let's get out of this Gods forsaken place."


	5. Chapter 5

It has been way, WAY too long. My apologies on the delay of this chapter. I had a hard time figuring out what the hell I wanted to have happen and it ended up mostly being dialogue. I try my best to keep characters consistent, so the more dialogue the more I agonize over it. Also, I am posting this after not being able to sleep properly for quite some time, so I am VERY sorry if I missed major mistakes in my proof reading. Anywho, sorry again for the long wait. Thank you soooo much to those who have reviewed, followed, and/or added this story to your favorites. Seriously, THANK YOU! If you are too anxious to leave a review (100% me) feel free to PM me. Stay safe with all the craziness happening in world right now!

**Note: I do not own Skyrim or its characters. I have only thought up my own OCs for this story. This is rated M for a reason and will have mature themes. I will try to remember to put a warning before every chapter but if one is missing or you think something should be added please let me know. Also, here is a small guide to help with my writing style.**

_Italicized with no_ quotes is the character's thoughts

"No italics with quotes," is the characters speaking the common tongue.

_"Italicized with quotes," _is the character speaking another language, most likely falmer.

In this chapter in particular, I have one sentence Ysrae says in Falmer in a different and smaller font. I chose to do this so you didn't have to read the same thing twice. Edit: welp, turns out I can't do this, but it was a good thought. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Hope that helps.**

**WARNINGS:language and dead bodies.**

* * *

Ysrae's head feels fuzzy. She squeezes her eyes tight. She feels like she could sleep for an eternity. She slowly opens her eyes and tries to blink away black spots interfering with her sight. Ysrae is finally able to focus her eyes. She's greeted with the sight of stars sparkling in the obsidian sky. She stares at the night sky's beauty, a slight smile on her face. Ysrae hears soft voices, making the smile disappear. Ysrae slowly turns her head towards the voices.

There are two men. One sitting on a log, the other a rock next to a small fire a few meters away from her. Ysrae is relieved when she recognizes Scouts-Many-Marshes' face in the warm light. She has no idea who the huge man talking to him is. Ysrae silently sits up, causing furs she didn't notice around her to pool at her waist. The cool air feels refreshing on her pale skin. Pain throbs through her temple. Ysrae grabs her head, gripping her black hair.

_What on Nirn happened?_ The last thing Ysrae can remember is barricading herself in the little alcove by the stream. She glances at Scouts-Many-Marshes and his companion. Maybe they can help her fill in the blanks. Ysrae waits for the throbbing in her head to subside. Once it's gone, she takes a moment to look back up at the sky. She will never again take the splendor of the night sky for granted.

_Nothing like being forced underground to make you appreciate the stars._ She sighs softly and quietly stands. She glances back at the sky and whispers a soft prayer to Auri-El. Ysrae takes a deep breath and approaches the men.

"Uh," she starts, unsure of what to say.

Their heads whip around to stare at her. Scouts' eyes are wide and the other man, an Orisimer Ysrae realizes, looks like he just had the shock of his life. Ysrae can't help but stare back at him. He has such striking blue eyes that contrast his darker green skin. Ysrae feels her face flush, realizing she has staring for way too long.

She thrusts her hand out to him, "I am Ysrae."

"Er…" He stands and shakes her hand in a tight grip, "Mol."

Ysrae nods and releases his hand. She turns to Scouts and holds out her hand. He moves to grab her hand, but Ysrae grabs his forearm and pulls him into a one-armed hug.

"Thank you," she whispers.

He hugs her back, "I'm sorry I didn't get you out sooner." He pulls away from her, a look of sorrow in his eyes, "Mol helped me get you out of there. If it wasn't for him, you would have woken up in the cave instead of out here."

Ysrae looks back at Mol, who appears to be frozen. Ysrae smiles at him and his face flushes.

Her smile turns mischievous, "Not used to being around women?"

Mol splutters something and she hears Scouts hide his laugh with a cough.

Ysrae laughs, "Sorry, sorry." She lightly hits Mol's chest with the back of her hand, "I should not have teased you, but your face reminded of a close friend when we started training together." Ysrae looks down and smiles softly at the memory, "Every time I spoke to him his face would turn red and he would only mumble a response." Ysrae's eyes start to water. She sniffles and wipes her eyes, _"I miss Athkir."_

Ysrae sighs heavily and plops down onto the ground. She hugs her knees and stares into the fire. Her heart feels so heavy. She buries her face in her arms; her long, onyx hair curtains around her face. Ysrae lets the tears fall. Other than the occasional sniffle and sharp intake of breath, she manages to stay mostly silent. She lets her months of pent up emotion out. She mourns for herself, her annihilated clan, and most of all, for the survivors whose fates are unknown. Her shoulders are shaking now. Ysrae grits her teeth. _It will be ok. It **will** be ok._

One of the guys sits next to her. He gently puts a hand on her shoulder, saying nothing. Ysrae appreciates the silent support. She leans into his side and his arm moves around her. Her body relaxes into him and her tears lessen. He lets her silently cry into his side for who knows how long.

Ysrae finally sits up and wipes her tears away with her hands. Through her blurry vision, she sees Mol next to her. He is watching the fire, as if a grown mer is not falling apart against him.

He notices Ysrae watching him and gives her a small smile, "Feel a little better now?"

Ysrae nods, leaning her head against his shoulder, "Is it ok if we sit like this for a while?"

He grunts in response and looks back into the fire. Ysrae guesses that means it's ok. She tries to watch the fire, but her mind keeps wandering to a dark place. Instead, she shifts her gaze to Mol's face without moving her head. He has a strong jawline and, like most mer, he has high, more prominent cheekbones. The bridge of his wide nose has a slight bump on it, making Ysrae think he may have fractured or broken it at some point. Ysrae runs her finger along her nose, grateful she was able to properly heal it so no one would know it was ever broken.

Her eyes wander to his slightly darker green lips and the long….tusks protruding from his mouth. Some of her clanmates had told Ysrae of the Orsimers' green skin and tusks, but she doesn't think they are as strange as her clanmates made them out to be. It makes them unique. Ysrae looks to the stars, idly wondering if the 'tusks' are tougher than the rest of his teeth.

Ysrae lets out a sigh. Her heart still feels heavy…it's going to be awhile before she feels ok. She closes her eyes and takes deep, slow breaths.

"Well," Ysrae stands and brushes herself off, "I feel like I could sleep until…" she pauses. "What month and year is it?"

"Uh…" Mol glances at Scouts.

Ysrae crosses her arms, "I know I was captive for a long time. Just tell me."

Mol looks away, staying silent.

"It's-It's Rain's Hand, the two hundredth year of the fourth era," Scouts whispers.

Ysrae is so relieved she was only held captive for six months rather than more than a year. She whispers, "I see." She turns from them and walks to the bedroll she woke up in. "_Night,_" she calls to them, wrapping herself in the furs. She quickly falls into a peaceful sleep.

….

Ysrae wakes with the rising sun. She sits on the log near the long dead fire and watches the sunrise. The soft pinks and purples slowly change to vibrant orange and pink. She sighs and stands, looking to where Scouts and Mol are lying under some trees. Mol is propped up against a tree trunk, softly snoring. Ysrae snorts in laughter. He must have been keeping watch, but succumbed to sleep. Scouts is lying nearby, his back to Ysrae. Based on his slow, heavy breaths, he is still asleep as well.

Ysrae looks around at her surroundings. Their small camp is next to a wall of rock. There are thick trees around their little clearing, keeping them hidden. _They picked a good spot._ She doesn't recognize anything, but she doesn't know how far from the cave they are. Plus, it was six months ago she was taken and it was dark.

Ysrae crosses her arms and hums. She wants to go back into the cave to retrieve her amulet and other effects she arrived with, but she does not want to wake her companions. _Should I just go look?_ She shakes her head at herself. _No. It may worry them if they wake up while I am gone._

Ysrae resigns herself to doing nothing and lies on the log to watch the sky. Ysrae's mind wanders to the last day she spent in captivity. She frowns and closes her eyes. She still cannot recall what exactly happened. She curses under her breath. _Why in Oblivian can I not remember?_

Ysrae takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, opening her eyes. Getting angry at herself won't help her remember. Instead, she allows her mind to wander to happier times. Her father teaching Yrhis and her how to use magic, the pride Father expressed when Ysrae showed natural talent with a bow….Ysrae sighs. She will always treasure her memories, but at present, they make her heart ache.

Ysrae sits up and straddles the log. Her stomach grumbles loudly. For the first time since Ysrae has been out of the cave, she realizes she is starving.

"As you should be," she mumbles to herself. _You have not eaten for Auri-El knows how long. Great 'plan' you had; blockading yourself without any provisions._ "Gods damnit," she growls, shoving her palm over her eye. Maybe if she puts enough pressure on her head, it will make the self-deprecating thoughts go away.

"You ok there?" a gravelly voice inquires.

Ysrae jumps, and lowers her hand. She was so caught up in her thoughts she did not hear Scouts approach.

She swallows hard and nods, "Just…ah….having a disagreement with myself, I suppose."

Scouts sighs and nods, "I know the feeling." He sits next to her and holds his hand out, "I figured you would be hungry."

Ysrae glances down and sees he has a small wedge of cheese and hunk of bread in his hand.

"It's not much, but I thought it would be better than nothing."

Ysrae gently takes the food from him, "Thank you."

Normally Ysrae would ask if he had anything for himself, but she is so hungry she tucks into the meal instead. She examines him as she slowly eats. She had thought the feathers on his head were black, but seeing him properly in the sunlight for the first time, she sees they are an iridescent dark blue. They are quite beautiful. Her eyes follow his curved, ivory horns. She wonders if they have much feeling in them, or if they are like nails; no feeling in the actual nail, but feeling where they are attached.

"There something interesting on my head?" Scouts-Many-Marshes is side eyeing her, a smirk on his face.

Ysrae can feel her face heat up, "Sorry. I do not think I ever told you this, but you are the first Argonian I have ever met. Or seen, for that matter. I have always been curious about the other races in Tamriel. Too curious according to the elders," Ysrae rolls her eyes.

Scouts chuckles, "Let me guess, they wouldn't let you anywhere near a town or main road?"

She nods and smiles, "Exactly right. I never dared go against them. If I was ever caught, they never would have let me leave to hunt or scout again. So I obeyed, no matter how much I wanted to visit the nearby Orsimer tribe."

"You must have a lot of self-control."

Ysrae shrugs, "When you are one of the last of your kind, you have to have some restraint." Ysrae sighs. _Smooth. Way to go dark._ "Anyways, I am not so great at self-control in certain aspects."

"Hhm. Care to give an example?" Scouts shifts so he's facing Ysrae more directly.

Ysrae can't help a smirk slipping out, "Not really. Some things are better learned through experience."

Scouts snorts and smiles, "Ain't it the truth?"

Ysrae stares at him, confused. "Umm, I think it is."

Realization crosses his face. "Sorry. It's something you can say when you agree with someone." He gives her a toothy grin, "You know the common tongue so well I forget you may not know some sayings and things like that."

Ysrae giggles, "I will take that as a compliment."

"It is," Scouts agrees. He frowns. "But-" he pauses.

Ysrae arches a dark brow in question.

Scouts swallows hard, unsure if he wants the answer. "How uh…how do you not accidently switch back and forth from the common tongue and Falmer?"

"I had **help** with that," she scoffs. "After being punished over a month for mistakes, I got good at keeping them separate."

Scouts-Many-Marshes nods, looking down at his hands.

"Hey," Ysrae grabs his hand, "do not dwell on it. As my father used to say '_Living in the past brings pain_'."

It is Scouts turn to look confused.

Ysrae's eyes soften, "It means, living in the past brings pain. My father used to tell me and my brother this every day. So I live for now. I am not going to forget the past, but I am not going to let it define or break me."

"A lot has changed for you…," Scout murmurs.

"And I will survive," Ysrae says before he can continue the thought. "I am from a long line of fighters and survivors." She lightly punches his arm, "Cheer up _horned one_."

He takes a deep breath and nods. "What did you call me?"

A playful grin overtakes Ysrae's face, "Maybe I will tell you some day." Ysrae stands and stretches, "All you need to know is that it is not unkind and I think it is a good…" Ysrae's nose wrinkles. "I cannot think of the proper name."

"Description?" Scouts guesses.

Ysrae shakes her head, "No. You know, a….an alternate name friends call you."

"A nickname?"

"Yes!" Ysrae groans, "How could I not think of nickname?"

Scouts chuckles, "You are fine. You know the common tongue better than some Nords."

"I agree," Mol rumbles.

Ysrae glances over at the Orsimer, who is dusting himself off.

He joins Scouts and Ysrae at the log, "How long have the two of you been up?"

Scouts-Many-Marshes shrugs.

"I have been up since sunrise," Ysrae offers.

"Gods, that early?" Mol grumbles, stretching.

Ysrae shrugs, "I have slept a lot recently. Anyway, which way back to the hideout?"

Scouts and Mol both stare at her.

"You are joking, right?" Scouts-Many-Marshes questions.

Ysrae shakes her head. "I need to get my amulet back, as well as my armor and weapons. They are irreplaceable."

Mol crosses his arms and nods, "Let us help you look. Should make it go faster."

Scouts nods, "Plus, you can use us as support if you need to."

Ysrae swallows down a lump in her throat, touched by the kindness of these two men. She forces a small, "To the cave, then."

…

The hideout reeks of death. The sickly-sweet smell disturbs Ysrae, who is holding her thin tunic over her nose. Scouts-Many-Marshes is walking beside her, his nose wrinkled in disgust. Mol has fallen behind, searching the bodies. As he put it, 'waste not want not.'

"Any idea where your effects are?"

"I think it is all in **his** room," Ysrae says, her voice muffled by her hand.

They swiftly make their way to the deceased leader's private room. Ysrae lets her shirt fall from her face, digging into the small dresser next to the bed. The top drawer has nothing useful. Ysrae growls and moves on to the bottom drawer. It contains six coin purses of varying sizes. Ysrae takes a deep breath and looks into the largest one. It contains an assortment of amulets. She sorts through them, hoping to see her shining, gold sun. A familiar shape falls into her palm. Ysrae pulls her hand out and sees her amulet. It needs to be polished, but it is undamaged. Ysrae smiles.

"Find it?"

Ysrae nods and slips the amulet over her head, "Just my armor and swords now."

"What about your bow?" Scouts questions.

"It should still be in the fighting pit. Or on that bastard's back."

Scouts nods, "Lets split up then. Would you rather stay in here and look for your things or go out there for your bow?"

"I will get my bow." Ysrae huffs, "Maybe going down there will help me remember what happened."

Scouts freezes. "You do not remember?"

Ysrae shakes her head, "Do you know what happened?"

Scouts sighs, "Not exactly. But I think we should talk about it once we are out of here. Plus, Mol may have a better theory than me."

Ysrae nods. Scouts resumes looking through a dresser. Ysrae leaves and makes her way to the cages above the fighting pit. She pauses when she sees all the bodies. Regret fills her heart, but only for a moment. It is quickly replaced with rage. _Why should I feel bad when they destroyed my family and home?_

Ysrae grits her teeth and makes her way through them. Near the center of the bodies, she sees a familiar shining, white blade. Ysrae smiles and rushes to it. She grabs it and carefully examines it. The blade looks undamaged, if not a bit dull. The deep maroon hilt with thin, white swirls throughout, is undamaged. The golden pommel is slightly scuffed, but still looks good. Ysrae whispers a thanks to Auri-El that her sword unharmed.

She eagerly looks down, looking for her sword's mate. Ysrae spots a gold pommel with a sun engraved in it…underneath a large body.

"_Fuck."_ Ysrae carefully tugs on her sword. It doesn't budge. "_Gods damnit_," she hisses.

She puts her sword off the to the side and moves to the head of the corpse. She takes a deep breath and crouches down. She shoves her hands under the shoulders and lifts. She strains from the weight. Her muscles are screaming. She manages to almost get the body sitting up, when her muscles give out. Ysrae falls on her butt. She glares at the body and kicks it. It just had to be on her sword.

"You ok there?" Mol's deep voice rumbles behind her.

Ysrae glances back, "I did not realize I had become so weak."

Mol stands behind her, "Well, he is rather big. And, no offense, but you are pretty skinny."

Ysrae ponders this. She knew she wasn't as strong as she was before she came here, but why does she feel so much weaker now? She slowly looks to where the stream and overhanging rock is.

"My barricade failed," she whispers.

"What?" Mol crouches next to her.

Ysrae points, "I barricaded myself in there after Scouts-Many-Marshes left. My strength eventually gave out and my barricade failed." She looks up at him, "How long did it take for the two of you to come get me?"

"Uurr," Mol pauses, "I think Scouts mentioned he was gone for a week or so."

"And ah…where was I when you got here?"

Mol waves his hand, "Right around here."

Ysrae opens her mouth, but Mol puts up a hand to silence her.

"There are some things you need to know, but this isn't the time. We'll tell you once we're outta here."

Ysrae nods, "You are right. So," she stands, "want to help me move this body?"

Mol chuckles, "Sure."

Mol picks up the dead man, seemingly with little effort. Ysrae shakes her head at how easy he made it look. She grabs her sword and Mol drops him. She grabs the sword she left off to the side.

Scouts emerges from the tunnel that leads to the private bedroom. "Found your armor!" he calls out.

"Thank you," Ysrae calls back.

He approaches her and Mol, "Any luck with the bow."

Ysrae shakes her head, "I have not gotten down there yet. But," she holds up her swords, "I found these."

Scouts smiles and nods, "I am glad."

"Speaking of," Mol cuts in, "may I look at your swords? I have never seen Ancient Falmer weapons."

"Hm," she smiles, "I do not know if I would call it ancient, but yes." She holds the hilt out to him.

"Uh, sorry," his face flushes. He grabs the sword, "That's what most people call the Falmer of old, since the current Falmer are…." he trails off, his face falling.

Ysrae looks at the ground, her voice soft, "We call them The Betrayed. I think soon after we started calling ourselves Snow Elves." She blinked rapidly and looked back up. "I have never seen any of The Betrayed before. No one in my clan had. All we had was stories. How…twisted our kind have become." Ysrae shakes her head. "I am going to find my bow." Ysrae turns, her second sword held loosely in her hand. She walks towards the fighting pit. "Once we are out of here, you can look at my armor as well," she calls back.

Ysrae makes her way down into the fighting pit. She almost immediately spots her predominantly white bow lying on the dark earth. She places her sword on the ground and gently picks up her bow. She inspects it. It's snow-white with a dark maroon inlay in an intricate pattern. It still looks perfect. She exhales and smiles, happy to have a piece of herself back. Time to get out of this Gods forsaken place.


	6. Chapter 6

Woo it didn't over two months to update! This chapter is shorter than normal (sorry!). The flow didn't feel right with what happens next, so I split it into a new chapter. The good news is a decent chunk of the next chapter is already finished. So (fingers crossed) I should be able to finish the next chapter before the end of May. Thank you so much to those who have reviewed, followed, and/or added this story to your favorites. Seriously, THANK YOU! If you are too anxious to leave a review (100% me) feel free to PM me. Stay safe with all the craziness happening in world right now!

**Note: I do not own Skyrim or its characters. I have only thought up my own OCs for this story. This is rated M for a reason and will have mature themes. I will try to remember to put a warning before every chapter but if one is missing or you think something should be added please let me know. Also, here is a small guide to help with my writing style.**

_Italicized with no_ quotes is the character's thoughts

"No italics with quotes," is the characters speaking the common tongue.

_"Italicized with quotes," _is the character speaking another language, most likely falmer.

**Hope that helps.**

**WARNINGS: none?**

* * *

Ysrae runs her hand through her long hair, trying to process what Scouts-Many-Marshes and Mol told her. Throughout the day, she was able to remember what happened right up until she passed out from exhaustion. Her barrier fell soon after. Ysrae can vaguely remember being woken up, but that's it. She has no idea how the specters came to be. If she had somehow summoned them or if Auri-El sent them to her.

"You alright?" Mol asks in a low, gentle voice.

Ysrae nods. "I just," she runs her hand through her hair again, "I need some air." She shoves off from the table, unintentionally causing the dishware to clatter. She slips out the door into the night.

The cool night air feels wonderful on her hot skin. She takes a deep breath and steps away from the lumber mill's worker house. The owner of the mill, Gilfre, let Ysrae and her two companions help work the mill in exchange for staying in the worker house for the night. Although, Ysrae didn't feel very helpful. She had helped Gilfre load the logs onto the saw while the men had chopped wood. Gilfre had chatted happily with Ysrae; she talked about her former workers leaving to fight in the civil war, how she wanted to start a family, and any other news she heard from travelers on the road. Ysrae is not sure if the woman missed having someone to talk to or if she noticed how skinny Ysrae is and was being kind.

Ysrae walks to the saw mill. She closes her eyes and listens to the river rushing by_. How? How was I saved by my ancestors?_ At least, she assumes the two Mol interacted with were her ancestors. Ysrae opens her eyes and rolls up the sleeves of the shirt she's wearing. She examines her left wrist, running her finger along the angry scar there. She could erase it, but it feels wrong somehow. She will at least wait until she can remember or figure out what happened. Ysrae sighs, clutching her wrist in her hand. _If I could just remember…_

"Bit late to be out, isn't it?"

Ysrae jumps and turns toward the soft feminine voice. Gilfre is standing near her, hugging herself as if she is cold.

Gilfre chuckles, "Sorry I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you would hear me coming."

Ysrae gives her a small smile, her face hot from embarrassment. "It is ok. I was deep in thought."

"Hmm." Gilfre stands next to Ysrae, rubbing her arms, "It's chilly tonight, I don't know how you can stand it."

"I do not mind the cold. I grew up somewhere where snow is around for most of the year." Ysrae lifts her gaze to the stars, finding the constellation that leads to home.

Ysrae can feel Gilfre staring at her. After what feels like forever, Gilfre breaks the silence.

"You aren't a light skinned High Elf, are you?"

Ysrae looks at Gilfre and swallows a lump in her throat. This woman has been nothing but kind. She doesn't want to lie to her.

Gilfre sighs, "Never mind, you don't have to answer that." She stares at the ground, "I don't want to pry and I'm not going to ask. But I can tell something awful happened to you."

_More like a few 'awful' things._ Ysrae unconsciously nods.

Gilfre gives Ysrae a sad smile. "I know it won't be permanent, but you and your friends are welcome to stay and help me work the mill. I will pay you what I paid my last workers."

Ysrae picks at her nails, unsure what to say.

"You don't have to answer now. Just think about it."

"Thank you," Ysrae whispers.

Gilfre nods. "Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to hit the hay."

Ysrae stares at Gilfre's retreating back. _Hit the hay?_ Ysrae chuckles and shakes her head. _Guess I better learn more about the common tongue._

Ysrae watches the stars through the cloudy sky. After a while, a few drops of rain fall on her face. She sighs but doesn't move. She closes her eyes and lets her mind go blank, concentrating on the sound of rainfall. The drizzle soon becomes a down pour. She lets out a deep breath and walks to the worker house. By the time she's inside, Ysrae is soaked.

Scouts and Mol are already in bed. The only light in the house is the low fire crackling in the hearth. Ysrae takes off her shirt and pants, draping them on the back of a chair. She takes a seat on the floor near the fire and wrings her hair out. It leaves a small puddle on the floor. She slowly runs her hands through her hair, disentangling it.

Once her hair is somewhat dry, Ysrae stands and walks to the empty third bed. She stares at it. She sighs and hugs herself. She really doesn't want to be alone.

"Ysrae?" Scouts' rough voice whispers behind her.

Ysrae turns. Scouts is on his side, partly sitting up. There is sleepy concern on his dark face. They stare at each other in silence. Scouts-Many-Marshes glances at Mol, who hasn't stirred. Scouts seems to ponder a moment. He shifts farther back on the bed and lifts the blanket; a silent invitation. Ysrae gladly accepts.

She quietly pads to him and slides into the bed, facing him. She softly whispers, "Thank you."

A low hum rumbles from his throat.

Ysrae smiles. _He must be tired._ She snuggles into his chest. His arms wrap around her. They fall into a peaceful sleep.

….

Ysrae feels a hand gently running through her hair. She involuntarily shivers and hums in pleasure. She hears a soft chuckle. She opens her bleary eyes to Scouts' content face.

"Sorry," he barely whispers. "Your hair looked soft and I couldn't resist the urge to touch it."

"'S alright," she mumbles. "Feels nice."

He keeps running his fingers through her hair while Ysrae blinks up at him and slowly wakes up. She slowly raises her arm and strokes his feathers. Ysrae feels him shiver.

It's her turn to chuckle, "I wondered if that would be similar to fingers through hair." She keeps her voice low so she doesn't disturb Mol.

"It's starting to get light out. Should we get up?"

Ysrae shakes her head, "Let's stay like this a little longer."

They lie in silence, both enjoying the comfort of the other. Ysrae wraps her arm around him. She really doesn't want to get up. After some time, Ysrae sighs and they disentangle themselves. She silently walks to her hanging clothes and gets dressed. She can hear Scouts doing the same behind her. When she turns back, he is wearing simple clothes.

Ysrae walks to a barrel next to the bench and peers inside. There are still some apples at the bottom. They look like they are still good. Ysrae reaches into the barrel and pulls two out. She carefully examines them. Satisfied, she takes a bite of one and tosses the other to Scouts. He catches it and nods his thanks.

Ysrae sits at the small table near the fireplace. Scouts sits next to her. They eat their breakfast in silence; Ysrae enjoying the sweet fruit and Scouts seemingly to be thinking hard. Ysrae finishes and stretches. She sighs in content and leans back in her seat.

Her mind wanders to Gilfre's offer. _Should I stay here awhile?_ She debates with herself. On one hand, she needs to get her strength back. On the other hand, she wants to try to find her clanmates. _But the odds of finding anyone is slim to none._ Ysrae is pulled from her thoughts by Scouts clearing his throat.

"Can we talk?"

Ysrae nods, "What is on your mind?"

"About last night…" Scouts trails off.

Ysrae stares at him, confused.

He clears his throat again, "I just want to make something clear." He lets out a deep breath, "I like you and enjoy your company. But I'm not looking to settle down with anyone right now."

"Uhhh..." Ysrae doesn't know what to say. She fidgets with the sleeve of her shirt, uncomfortable. "I, uh," she swallows hard. "I am not looking to settle down either."

Scouts looks relieved and lets out a deep breath, "Thank The Hist." He chuckles.

Ysrae laughs nervously, "Sorry if I gave you that impression..."

Scouts shakes his head, "It's ok. I was afraid I was going to hurt you."

Ysrae snorts and laughs, feeling reassured. "You do not have to worry about hurting me in that way." She frowns, "What made you think it would hurt me?"

Scouts shrugs, "I don't know how your people deal with these sorts of things."

Ysrae hums, "I do not know how things used to be, but my clan is casual when it comes to intimacy. Er, was casual," Ysrae sighs. "Anyways, it was not uncommon for someone to have one or more partners. It was always assumed it was not serious, unless otherwise indicated. But, say I was interested in someone. I would tell them I wanted something more with them. If they agreed, we would only be with each other. We would then, most likely, get married."

"Somewhat similar to down here, then." Scouts leans back and crosses his arms, "Guess I worried for no reason."

Ysrae smiles, "At least we have avoided a misunderstanding. What is different down here?"

Scouts rubs his neck, "Ah, some people will wear an amulet of Mara if they are actively looking to get married. Some use it to find out if they person they are interested in likes them to."

Ysrae furrows her brow, "Is it not better to be honest? It could give the impression that they are not interested in the person they want."

Scouts hums. "I think some people think that is better than being rejected outright."

"Scouts is right. Humans in particular don't seem to take rejection well."

Ysrae and Scouts turn to Mol, who is sitting on his bed and stretching.

"How long have you been awake?" Scouts shoots Ysrae a nervous glance.

She shrugs, not caring if Mol heard their entire conversation or not.

Mol grunts and stands, "I don't know how you got on the topic of love and marriage, but now I know the Snow Elves approach it similarly to everyone else in Skyrim." Mol starts to change out of his bed clothes.

Ysrae switches her attention to Scouts to give Mol some privacy. Scouts looks so relieved, Ysrae can't help but laugh. She tries to disguise it as a cough, smiling behind her fist. He shoots her a look and she stares back, smile still on her face. He eventually relents and smiles back. She nods.

Ysrae's face turns serious as she remembers the offer Gilfre made last night. She leans forward and clasps her hands. She has made up her mind.

Mol sits on the other side of her. Ysrae glances at him. He's eating a hunk of dried meat. He looks concerned.

"You ok, Ysrae?"

She nods. "Gilfe offered us jobs here for as long as we want." She sighs and stares at her hands. "I am going to stay here awhile. I understand if the two of you want to move on."

A heavy silence follows her statement. Ysrae glances up at them. They both are staring at her. Scouts-Many-Marshes' brow is furrowed.

Mol finds his voice first and scoffs, "Like I'm going to leave when you promised to teach me about the Snow Elves. Plus, I would be an ass to leave before you recovered more."

Scouts nods, "I agree with the last part. It would also be nice to save up some coin."

"Thank you," Ysrae whispers. She smiles at them, "I was hoping you would both stay. I-" A knock interrupts her. She sighs and stands, "Guess it is time to tell Gilfre our decision."


	7. Chapter 7

Man this chapter took quite awhile to write. Honestly, i wasn't sure how to end the chapter. Hopefully it isn't too obvious i struggled with the end. Thank you so much to those who have reviewed, followed, and/or added this story to your favorites. And thank you for reading this story! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Stay safe out there!

**Note: I do not own Skyrim or its characters. I have only thought up my own OCs for this story. This is rated M for a reason and will have mature themes. I will try to remember to put a warning before every chapter but if one is missing or you think something should be added please let me know. Also, here is a small guide to help with my writing style.**

_Italicized with no_ quotes is the character's thoughts

"No italics with quotes," is the characters speaking the common tongue.

_"Italicized with quotes," _is the character speaking another language, most likely falmer.

**Hope that helps.**

**WARNINGS: language and consumption of alcohol**

* * *

Time moves quickly for Ysrae. The cool, rainy weather of Rain's Hand and Second Seed fades for the warmer weather of Midyear. The hard work she has done every day has paid off. She has regained her strength and muscle mass. Unfortunately, she is plagued with dreams from the massacre of her people and dreams of **him. **Despite the nightmares, she still holds out hope some of her clanmates and brother are alive, but she knows just wandering Tamriel would be an ineffective way to try to find them. If they are still alive, they most likely found a new place to hide where no one can find them.

As she promised, she has been teaching Mol what she knows about the Snow Elves. She even has been helping with his restoration and alteration magic. She tried to help him with destruction magic, but she is somehow terrible at it, as well as conjuration. Mol helped Ysrae learn sayings and insults common to Skyrim. Scouts has helped in this endeavor as well.

Both Mol and Scouts-Many-Marshes have been training with Ysrae. She had been afraid neither would want to train, but neither objected when she asked. Mol had somewhat hesitated; after Ysrae pointed out the pros of being a battlemage, he enthusiastically joined in. Scouts didn't want to get rusty and was able to teach Ysrae a thing or two with a sword. In turn, Ysrae was able to help him improve his stealth; a skill Ysrae and her brother have always had a natural talent for.

Ysrae has become good friends with the two men. It took Mol awhile, but he eventually opened up to Ysrae and Scouts-Many-Marshes. Ysrae was surprised and appalled Mol was kicked out of his tribe at the young age of eighteen for taking an interest in magic and not being a "proper" orc. Mol had reassured her, saying he never would have fit in and he changed his name to leave that part of his life behind. This did little to reassure her. Never truly being accepted by family had to hurt. Ysrae and Scouts do their best to make sure Mol feels accepted in their odd, little group.

Scouts and Ysrae have found comfort in each other. On some levels, they can understand each other's pain. Both were held captive by a sadistic fuck and both lost people they care about.

Currently, Ysrae is enjoying a hot bath in the tub she had bought as soon as she had enough coin. She takes a deep breath, enjoying the light flowery scent of the oil she put in the water. The oil has the dual purpose of cleaning her and keeping her skin soft and blemish free.

"I still can't believe you can make that oil," Mol rumbles, examining his hands.

Ysrae chuckles, "When you live in a small, reclusive clan, everyone tends to learn a bit of everything." She closes her eyes, "Also, I made it a point to learn how to make the oil. Just because I am a warrior does not mean I cannot enjoy smelling good and having soft skin." She smirks at him, "Right?"

Mol laughs, "When you're right, you're right."

Scouts-Many-Marshes hums, "I don't think it does much for my scales, but I like the smell of the pine and juniper berry oil you made."

"I don't know, Marshes," Ysrae shoots him a flirtatious smile, "I think your scales have more of a shine now."

Mol groans, "Why don't you two bed each other already?" The mirth in his eyes gives away he is teasing.

Ysrae laughs. "I believe you have caught some of my sass."

Before he can reply, Ysrae takes a deep breath and submerges herself in the water. She gently rubs her face and neck. She breaks the surface with her face and breathes through her nose. She can hear the men talking, but her submerged ears makes it impossible to understand what they're saying. She lets them be. She massages her scalp and washes her dark locks.

When Ysrae is finished, she sighs in content, completely relaxed. She sits up and feels for the stopper on the bottom left of the tub. She finds it and pulls, the water draining outside. Ysrae stands, shakes the water off her limbs, and wrings out her hair. She is careful to keep her breasts covered or her back to the two men. They have gotten used to her casualness regarding nudity, but she tries not to make them uncomfortable. She goes to the unused third bed, now shoved in a corner, her back to the men. She grabs clean underwear she left on the bed, next to an oversized shirt.

Ysrae feels eyes boring into her. She glances over her shoulder and catches Scouts staring at her from his bed. His dark gray eyes are intense. Her eyes shift to Mol; he is sitting on his bed, his back to her, and appears to be preoccupied writing in his journal. She looks at Scouts and smiles. She looks back at the bed and bends over to pull on the underwear. She purposefully wiggles her ass a little. She shouldn't tease him so, but Gods she misses sex. She huffs and pulls on the shirt, which falls mid-thigh.

She crosses her arms and stares at the wall. She is tempted to go outside and cool off. Instead, she sits on the bed and crosses her legs. She angles her head to the side and detangles her hair with her fingers. She hates the way her hair feels when it's wet, but it will be harder to brush if she doesn't do this.

She can still feel Scouts watching her, but she ignores him and concentrates on her task.

"Rae," Mol's deep voice rumbles out, "I have a question for ya."

Ysrae looks up. Mol's cool blue eyes are on her. She stands and moves in-front of the hearth. The fire is burned down to coals now, but it is still giving off plenty of heat.

"What is it?"

Mol shifts so his body is facing her, "I know this was a while ago, but you remember how you and Scouts were talking about marriage and intimacy?"

Ysrae raises an eyebrow. "Yes."

"I was wondering, what would happen if there was an unwanted pregnancy with casual partners?"

Ysrae's eyes widen in surprise. Not so much at the question, but the fact Mol had asked without madly blushing. "Oh, uh…" She clears her throat to get her bearings, "It did not happen very often, but it would depend on what the parents wanted. If they didn't want to get married, they could still raise the child together and have their other partners. If only one of them wanted the child, that parent would take care of the child. If neither of them wanted the child, the whole clan would raise them. Which also happens if a child is orphaned and has no other family."

"Your elders wouldn't be upset a kid was born out of wedlock?" Scouts asks, sounding surprised.

Ysrae snorts to hold back her laughter, "Oh no. Maybe once our culture may have frowned upon it, but since there are so few of us, I think the elders were too happy that we were reproducing."

"Huh," Scouts rests his chin on his hand, "I would have guessed they would be more uptight like the High Elves."

Mol nods his agreement.

Ysrae shakes her head. She frowns, "Although, they were disapproving of marriage with any of the other races." Mol's mouth drops open. Ysrae raises her hands in defense, "Not because they dislike the other races. They just wanted to keep the Snow Elf bloodlines strong."

"Ah." Mol crosses his arms, "So it wasn't necessarily forbidden?"

Ysrae shakes her head. "Depending on their love interest's race, the elders would ask that the clan member have a child with a fellow Snow Elf before or after they start a family."

"Would they usually agree?" Scouts looks conflicted.

Ysrae clears her throat. "Yes. In fact, my great-great-great grandmother agreed to it before she married my great-great-great grandfather."

"Why before she married?" Mol wonders.

"Because he was Dunmer. My grandmother would have been too old to have children **if** she out lived him."

"I see. Did you get your dark hair from him?"

Ysrae picks at her nails. "Yes," she mumbles. She sighs, "His dark hair and shorter stature has stayed in the family."

Scouts-Many-Marshes laughs. "**You're** short? I already feel short with you two giants around," he sweeps his hand in her and Mol's direction.

Ysrae laughs, "I am not much taller than you. Mol is the real giant here."

Mol snorts, "You are still above average height compared to most people."

Scouts hums his agreement, followed by a yawn. "Not that this isn't interesting, but it is getting pretty late."

A yawn escapes Ysrae's mouth and she nods. "We are still going to Kynesgrove around midday tomorrow?"

Mol grunts the affirmative, "It will be good to do a little traveling and get some mead." He smiles mischievously, "I am determined to see the two of you drunk before we leave here."

Ysrae shakes her head, smiling. "I do not know why you are so excited to see drunkenness, but it should be fun. Let's get to bed."

Both men grunt their agreement. Ysrae quickly runs her fingers through her mostly dry hair one more time. She silently blows out the candles. Ysrae allows her eyes to adjust to the dark then slips into bed with Scouts, who is no longer wearing a shirt.

Ysrae swallows hard, Mol's teasing words running through her head. _It would be nice to bed Scouts…_ Ysrae gently shakes her head. As much as she misses having more intimacy than cuddling, she doesn't want to compromise her friendship with him.

"As much as I'm enjoying that," Scouts soft voice interrupts her thoughts, "it is making it hard to sleep."

Ysrae realizes she was absent-mindedly tracing patterns on Scouts' abdomen with her fingers. She jerks her hand back like she was burned. "S-sorry," she whispers, glad it's dark so he can't see her face turn red.

Scouts chuckles and pulls her closer so his chin is resting on her head. "Maybe the kid has a point."

Ysrae swallows hard again. "Yeah," she rasps out, "but would it change things between us?"

Scouts-Many-Marshes hums, "Maybe a little, but I don't see myself wanting to be anything more than friends."

Ysrae lets out a breath she was holding. "I feel the same."

"Good." He kisses the top of her head. "For tonight, let's get some sleep."

Ysrae nods and drapes her arm over his waist. She settles in and quickly falls asleep.

….

The morning comes too quickly and the three are unwilling to wake up. The two men are particularly reluctant. After prompting from Ysrae, they eventually wake up and get to work. They alternate between one person cutting down trees and the other two dragging the tree to the saw. The three work quickly and silently, except for occasional grunts from their efforts. By the time Gilfre comes out to start working, they have amassed a small stack of logs. She lets them know how impressed she is before she starts cutting the logs in half.

Midday finds the three of them drenched in sweat and wore out. Ysrae is lying on her back on the ground in-between Gilfre's house and the worker house. She's breathing heavily and trying to slow her thundering heart. Scouts-Many-Marshes and Mol are sitting across from her. Mol has his head between his knees; he is taking huge, uneven breaths. Scouts is leaning back on his palms, face tipped to the sky and breathing heavy as well.

Ysrae hears footsteps over the sound of their breathing. She can't be bothered to lift her head to look. Gilfre stands over Ysrae, her arms crossed and an amused look on her face.

"Did you all push yourselves too hard?"

They groan in response.

Gilfre chuckles, "Wait here." Ysrae hears her walk away and the sound of a door opening then closing.

"Like we are going anywhere," Mol pants out.

Ysrae sits up with a groan. "I would get up and run for the right reason."

Mol laughs, "Oh please. Let's see it then."

"Just because is a terrible reason," Ysrae smiles, "but good try."

"How about for ten septims?" Scouts gives her a toothy grin.

Ysrae stares at Scouts, "You to? Why all the interest in making me run?"

He shrugs, "I am more interested in what would get you to run."

"It is not ten septims," she grumbles.

Ysrae hears Gilfre exit her home. She glances over her shoulder and sees Gilfre has a basket. Gilfre approaches Ysrae and hands her a piece of dried meat.

"Thank you," Ysrae gratefully takes the food and digs in.

Gilfre gives the men some meat to. "I thought you could use a good meal after your hard work today." The men thank her. "And I wanted to thank you for doing a full day's work before you go to Kynesgrove."

Ysrae waves her hand, "It is the least we could do since all of your workers are leaving to be irresponsible for a night." Ysrae gives her a playful smile.

Gilfre laughs, "I remember being way more irresponsible when I was in my late teens, early twenties."

Ysrae stiffens. Gilfre says something, but Ysrae is too lost in her thoughts to hear. _Am I too old to be doing things like this? NO. No. I keep forgetting humans do not live as long as mer. As Mol put it 'life in Skyrim is hard and short.'_ Gilfre bids them good-day. Ysrae manages to mumble a farewell.

"Ok Ysrae?" Scouts is watching her.

She nods and finishes her last bit of meat. "I was just thinking….how old are you? I know Mol is a young eighteen." She smirks at said Orsimer, who grunts in response.

"Hmm. I am twenty-five. Why?"

Ysrae snorts, "Gilfre's comment about being irresponsible in her early twenties. All of you are making me feel old."

"Ysrae, are you an old maid?" Mol is smirking at her.

She laughs, "No more than you are. Although," she rubs her chin, "humans may consider me one."

"How old are you, then?" Scouts wonders.

"I am an ancient thirty-one."

Mol's eyes widen, "I wouldn't have guessed you were that old."

Scouts chuckles, "Honestly, I am surprised you aren't older. I have met mer much older than you who still looked just as young as you."

"At least I am young to someone here," she laughs.

Mol mumbles something. Ysrae stands and dusts herself off, "It's ok, Mol. When I was your age, I thought thirty was old as well." She walks to the two men, careful not to step on Scouts' tail, and holds her hands out. They grab her hands and haul themselves up. Ysrae stumbles forward from their combined weight, laughing. "Now, I do not know about you two, but I could do with a wash."

….

The trio make it to Kynesgrove well before the sun will begin to set. All three are wearing casual shirts with leather pants and each have a weapon; Mol has his battleaxe, Scouts-Many-Marshes his sword, and Ysrae her bow. All three agreed they wanted to wear at least some armor without being armed to the teeth. The pants seemed like the best choice so they wouldn't have to deal with all the buckles that comes with upper armor.

The town wasn't as far as Ysrae thought it would be. She is grateful it was a short journey. Her muscles are a bit sore from the hard, frantic work they did. Ysrae stares at the inn, Braidwood Inn according to the sign. She nervously tugs up on the black cloth she tied around her face to use as a mask.

Mol pats her back, "Relax Rae." He lowers his voice, "You used so much black and gray warpaint people will assume you're High Elf."

She nods, "You are right." She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "It has been so long since I have interacted with anyone but you guys and Gilfre. That is making me nervous as well."

"It will be ok," Scouts murmurs from her other side. "Not that you need us to do it for you, but Mol and I will chase off anyone who harasses you."

Ysrae chuckles. "I appreciate the thought." She takes one more deep breath, "Shall we?"

The three enter the mostly empty tavern. There is a young man leaning on a counter at the back, talking to a woman behind the counter. There are three tables with benches in the inn. Two are directly in-front of a large firepit. The third is across from the door. It's the farthest from the counter, but there is less chance of getting too hot.

Ysrae goes for the third. Her companions follow her.

"This one ok?" she asks in a low voice.

Scouts-Many-Marshes nods, "I always prefer to be close to the door when I'm in a tavern. Just in case things go south."

"Fair enough," Mol grunts. "I will go up and get us started."

"Oh, hold on." Ysrae glances to the boy and woman. Once she's satisfied they aren't paying attention, she discreetly reaches down her shirt and pulls out a small coin pouch from the depths of her chest wrap. "Here." She opens the bag and drops fifteen septims into Mol's hand.

"Uh- I'll be back." Mol retreats to the counter.

Ysrae slides on the side of the bench against the wall. She carefully ties her coin purse and places it back between her breasts.

"Interesting place to keep your coin," Scouts murmurs, sliding in next to her.

She smiles wide, "I thought so."

"Doesn't it move around too much? Or rub uncomfortably?"

Ysrae shakes her head. "I figured out how to wrap my chest just right so the coins do not move much. Although, I can only carry around fifty septims."

"Follow up question," Scouts says, just as Mol returns with three bottles in his hands. "Why do you wrap your chest? Why not just wear the standard undergarments?"

Mol snorts, "How is it you two manage to get into conversations like this when I'm only gone for a moment?"

Ysrae shrugs and grabs a bottle, pulling the cork out. She is careful to slip the bottle under her mask without displacing it. She starts to take a drink.

Scouts smirks, "I like to think I ask the right questions."

Ysrae chokes on the ale. She coughs and laughs. Scouts hits her back, also laughing.

Mol groans and sits across from them, "And you wonder why I thought you were younger than you are."

Ysrae manages to mostly compose herself, but she is still giggling. "You just did not get the chance to be around the serious me." Ysrae grabs her bottle, ready to actually try the drink. She points at Scouts, "Make me choke again and I will take it as an attempt on my life." She smiles before taking a large swig. The men follow suit.

The drink is different from any alcohol Ysrae has tried before. It's a little bitter, but not overly so. It somehow tastes earthy and a little spicy.

Mol hums his satisfaction, "That is a good ale."

Ysrae nods. "Does it have a name or anything?"

Mol shakes his head, "Iddra, the woman at the bar, just called it a dark ale."

"Hm, well I quite like it." Ysrae takes another drink. She sets the bottle down and frowns slightly. "What exactly is the plan here? Are we just going to drink ourselves stupid and attempt to walk home?"

"Uhhh…" Mol pauses. "I figure it depends on how drunk we get. If we don't end up drinking too much, we will go home whenever we are ready. If we do drink a lot, we can stay here. Iddra said they have a room for rent. It would be cramped for the three of us, but it will work."

"Good," Scouts mumbles. "I would rather not travel if the three of us are incapacitated." He takes a drink as Ysrae nods in agreement. "Back to the question I asked earlier," he looks at Ysrae.

She stares back, "You mean the wrap question?"

"Mhmm."

Ysrae scoffs, "Have you seen women's underclothes? They are fine for casual wear. Other than that, all the top is good for is keeping things covered up. Wrapping my chest helps keep everything in place, and I am careful not to wrap it too tight. It is actually less painful for me to use the wrap than to not."

"In battle and things like that?" Mol questions, a slight flush to his face.

"Exactly." Ysrae holds her bottle in front of her mouth, "I can concentrate on the battle and not be distracted by chest pain." She takes a large drink and sets the bottle down. "So, you guys have any interesting stories to tell you have not shared yet?"

The three pass the evening drinking and telling stories. Scouts-Many-Marshes tells stories of his time in the swampy hold of Hjaalmarch. Ysrae voices her interest in visiting someday as she has never seen swampland before. Mol tells them happier stories from his time growing up in an Orc tribe. Once she has had enough drink, Ysrae tells them about her and her brother's shenanigans.

The tavern becomes more crowded and at some point, a Nord man joins them. He drinks with them and doesn't seem to care the other three aren't human. He tells them stories; some true, others more mythos. Either way, the man is a good story-teller and good company.

His latest story has Ysrae laughing so hard she's gasping for breath. Mol is roaring with laughter, whereas Scouts is covering his face with a hand, silently laughing and shaking.

Ysrae gets her laughter under control and wipes tears from her eyes. She exhales and fans herself with her hand; she feels warm and she can tell her face is flushed.

"You will have to scuse me a _minute_," Ysrae shoves off the table, swaying as she stands. "Seems I need some air."

She stumbles out the door, not hearing what one of the men calls after her. The cool night air feels good on what little of her skin is exposed. She leans on the railing to steady herself; her head feels fuzzy, but not in an unpleasant way. She looks around. She sees no one around. _Thank Auri-El._ She pulls her mask down, sighing in relief. The mask was starting to feel stifling.

She tips her head back and blearily looks at the night sky. Once she cools off, Ysrae switches her attention to her hands. She carefully looks at her palm. The dried smeared black and gray war paint on her hands has started flaking off. She snorts and twists her hand, examining her nails. She picks at the cracking paint on her nails. She hears the door open behind her.

She keeps her back to whomever comes out and fumbles with her mask. The door slams closed, making her jump.

"Oops," a low voice chuckles.

Ysrae finally secures her mask and turns around. "Oh, it is just you," she pulls her mask back down and smiles at Mol.

He snickers, "Sorry to disappoint." He holds a bottle out to her.

Ysrae gladly accepts it and moves to sit on the side steps so she isn't blocking the door. Mol sits next to her, taking a swig of his own drink. Ysrae takes a gulp of the cool ale. She sighs happily and leans forward so her arms are resting on her legs.

"Thanks for this," Ysrae swirls the bottle, more forcefully than she meant to.

Mol grunts. "So how do ya like gettin drunk witha bunch of non-Snow Elves?"

" 'S fun so far." She giggles, "This is the most I have ever drank. It was against _the rules_ to drink too much." Ysrae stands and holds out her hand to him. "C'mon. It would be mean to leave Scouts allll alone."

"Don' worry. Roggi was with him." Mol takes her hand and pulls himself up, nearly pulling her down.

She stumbles into his chest, giggling. "I forgot how big you are." She gently pushes off of him and twirls around, "Let's go!"

"Hold on," Mol grabs her arm and pulls her back forcefully, dropping his drink which loudly thunks on the wooden porch. Ale slops out of the bottle in Ysrae's hand and her face collides with his solid chest. The two have ale on them and there is a growing puddle on the porch.

"_Shit!" _She rubs her aching nose.

"S-sorry. Pulled harder than I meant to," he looks down at her and gently grabs her face. "Ya forgot this," he slides her mask over her nose and makes sure it's secure.

"Hmmm. In that case, I suppose I forgive you." Ysrae grabs his shoulder, stands on tip-toes, and gives him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispers in his ear. She giggles and pats his shoulder, "Sorry I tease you as much as I do."

Mol snorts, "I know you don't mean anything by it. Besides," he laughs and slaps Ysrae on the back, making her grunt, "it's part of what makes you…well, you."

"Thanks, big guy. Come on," she hits his chest with the back of her hand, "lets get back to drinking with Scouts and our new friend."

The rest of the evening is filled with laughter and copious amounts of drink. Mol eventually falls asleep at the table, leaving Scouts and Ysrae to drag him to the room they rented. They somehow get Mol into the single bed. Ysrae struggles to get his boots off while Scouts removes the battleaxe from his back. Once they have tucked Mol in as best as they can, they drunkenly prepare a bedroll on the floor to share. They soon follow Mol into blessedly dreamless sleep.


End file.
